Reptilian
by Artemis Day
Summary: When Jane and Thor's whirlwind romance garners the wrong kind of attention, it spells major trouble for our favorite astrophysicist. Forced through a wild transformation, her scaly little problem may bring her closer to Asgard's second prince, but can he save her humanity, or is she doomed to become a monster? Lokane.
1. Prologue

**A/N: I've been writing this story a little bit at a time in response to a prompt on norsekink. So far, I have released a segment of a chapter each day, and am now starting to bring them all together and post them to my main accounts. This prologue is the only part of the story that will be in the 1st pov, so don't freak out if you really don't like that sort of thing. Chapter one will be up in 2-3 days, and from there, I will post one chapter a week (maybe two if I'm in a good mood). **

**Hope you enjoy the story!**

* * *

_Who does this mortal think she is?_

_We've all heard the stories, they tell them all over Asgard. All about how she changed our prince for the better, how she made him a man worthy of the throne. I don't believe a word of it._

_I look down at this woman, peacefully slumbering, hunched over a cluttered desk, ugly snores emitting from her mouth. How could someone this unkempt and mousy ever gain the attention of a royal, especially one as proud and magnificent as Prince Thor? I and my sisters cannot comprehend such an absurdity. It would be laughable if it wasn't true._

_I've snuck away from home on a very important assignment: rid Asgard of the headache that is this woman. I cannot kill her, that goes against all my principles. Even a murderer would be spared by my hand. I don't believe in executing the guilty, I prefer to let them live, let them suffer._

_In the name of Asgard, the All-Father, and Prince Thor himself, I will make Jane Foster suffer._

_My first step is to cast a light sleeping spell, to ensure she doesn't awake during the process. I pick her up, she is pathetically light. No meat on her bones at all. Add one more reason why it's impossible for her to have truly captured the prince's heart. I have already prepared the runes in the middle of her floorspace. Most of her collection of trinkets and Midgardian devices are pushed off to the sides, leaving plenty of space. I drop her in the circle, maneuvering her arms and legs in the correct spots. If I do this wrong, I could end up turning her inside out or something equally unpleasant. I magically bind her body when I'm through, and I remove the sleep from her eyes. They spring open and she's gasping, looking around and trying to move. Her whole face goes white when she realizes she can't. Sweat shines on her brow. She meets my gaze, without recognition and with many questions._

_She asks who I am._

_Someone who loves Thor._

_She asks what is happening._

_You are being judged. You have sinned against us and now you will be punished._

_Her terror grows, and her attempts to free herself become more erratic. I smile to myself. Let her fight as hard as she wants, as much as she wants. She cannot escape. Her fate is sealed._

_She fights harder, tears filling her eyes and running down her cheeks. I should smash her face in for being so weak. This is a woman who has no business consorting herself with Asgardian royalty. I'd like to see her try and fight a battle. She'd be without a head in seconds and she'd scream and cry the whole way through. So spineless, so powerless, so unworthy. She makes my skin crawl._

_She looks at me again and she asks me why._

_I tell her she knows why, and then I start to chant._

_The ancient runes light up with power; bright white that seeps into the chalk drawn lines. They reach her struggling body and enshrine her. Her screams of fear turn to pain as the magic courses through her being, changing her at her very core. Her limbs elongate, bones cracking and snapping into new places. Her fingers curl into themselves and grow pointed at the ends. Her voice steadily lowers in pitch, going from light and girlish to impossibly deep and animalistic. She expands out of the circle. I must back away to the wall to avoid her crushing me. A tail grows between her legs, long and covered in dark purple scales that crawl up the rest of her body, until no human flesh remains. Her face grows outward into a snout, smoke puffing out her nostrils as her new set of bone-gnashing teeth push through her old ones._

_She rolls over on all fours, her back arched outward. Something ripples beneath her skin, then bursts forth coated in a thick layer of slime. Massive wings stretch out, at least ten feet all around. Her body is so large now, that when she tries to stand, her head bumps the ceiling. She pushes through it, dust and plaster raining down around her._

_The next time she screams, it is not a scream at all. It is a roar. The anguished cry of the monster she's become._

_I hear other voices now, those of many mortals who have left their homes to find the source of the calamity. They scream when they see her. Many in fear, others in anger. A series of loud popping sounds ring out. Tiny projectiles bounce off Jane Foster's skin. Whatever they are, they are harmless against her, only making her turn to her attackers. She raises her claws as if to calm them. She tries to speak, but that is beyond her capabilities. All that comes out is harsh grunts. It serves to further enrage the crowd, who resort now to throwing fire at her. One person hurls a bottle of ale stoppered by a flaming cloth at her tail, and she unconsciously swats it away. It flies through another building's window and explodes. A male voice shouts a female name again and again as he runs._

_Jane Foster roars in pain. It seems that last attack did have some effect on her. The mortals take this as a war cry. They all run in fear for their lives as Jane Foster stumbles around like a drunk, still not used to her new body. Her wings flap- presumably all on their own- and carry her off into the night. And now I think it's time to take my leave._

_I do not know where Jane Foster will go from here, but I do know that I will hear of her again soon. A dragon is a creature of myth, nothing more than a storybook legend from times long passed. Now that I have made it reality, it's only a matter of time before the gatekeeper takes notice, and then all of Asgard will have something new to talk about. I imagine my prince will be eager to take the beast on. A dragon's head would make an invaluable trophy. I may not be a killer in my own right, but I am not one to stand in the way of a hunter after his prey._

_However long it may be before that day comes, I return home on this night content, and triumphant. I know in my heart of hearts, that beats with years of wisdom and immeasurable love for her people, that I have done well here on this night._


	2. Chapter 1

This is Action News at 11.

Good evening, everyone. I'm Kent Tucker, bringing you the latest on DragonWatch.

It's been six months since the day an actual, full-fledged _dragon_ appeared in the desert town of Puente Antiguo, New Mexico. Locals on the scene described it as twenty to twenty five feet tall, dark purple scales, razor sharp teeth, and wings measuring at least ten to twelve feet across. Indeed, the dragon left the scene via flight following a brief altercation with townspeople. It was spotted on several radars with a fifty mile radius between 12:30 am and 3:15 am.

Since then, there have been numerous sightings of the dragon all over the country, though primarily in the states of New Mexico, Nevada, Arizona, Arkansas, Iowa, Missouri, Colorado and Wyoming. Reports of the dragon appearing in Los Angeles or over New York City have yet to be confirmed. The most recent confirmed sighting comes from a shopkeeper in Marion, Iowa, Carl Phillips. We caught up with Carl earlier today, and here's what he had to say:

_"Well, I was just opening up for the day- I run a farmer's market, see. And you know, I hadn't been buying into all this dragon stuff before now. Thought it was just some crazy stunt someone was pulling to start a big fuss with people. I was just sorting through my oranges, picking out the bad ones and such, and I saw its shadows over me. When I looked up, there it was. It was the hugest dang thing I ever did see with a big purple belly and flapping wings- I swear the wind it generated could've uprooted trees if there were any. That's when I knew it was real, and I'll tell you, I'm never looking at my grandson's pet lizard the same way again."_

In addition to Mr. Phillips, there was another dragon sighting called in last week. Shelly Herron and Benjamin Ramsey, a Colorado couple driving home from a late movie, spotted the dragon climbing up a mountain with what appeared to be a wooden horse cart wrapped in its tail and another one clamped in it's jaw.

On the scientific end, debates have abounded. Herpetologists, zoologists, and biologists alike have thrown in their theories as to the creature's origin. Everything from an evolutionary anomaly to a mutation. Also of note is the cryptozoology field's very enthusiastic response to the creature. Dr. Royce Coroman, author of 12 books on the subject of dragons, spoke with David Letterman several weeks back. He was quoted as saying, 'This is an incredible step towards mine and my colleague's research. I do believe we are dealing wtih an actual dragon, and I see its as a sign of hope for the existence of other creatures of supposed mythical origins. I guarantee that it will not end here. Soon we will see concrete proof of Bigfoot, The Loch Ness Monster and others.'

In addition biological field, members of other scientific branches have have weighed in, including billionaire, former CEO of Stark Industries and popular superhero, Tony Stark, whom we have with us in the studio today, speaking with our correspondent, Jackson Peterton. Jack, go ahead.

"Thanks, Kent. So, Mr. Stark, have you seen the dragon yourself?

"I have not, no. However, my Italian pool boy Fabrizio saw it on his way home from the tanning salon and I'll tell you, he does not lie. At least, I don't think he does. He doesn't really speak English."

"I see… and so that is enough for you to believe the dragon is real."

"Absolutely not, what do you take me for? I don't even have a pool boy. Fooled you, didn't I?"

"Ah, yes, yes you did. I-In all seriousness-"

"In all seriousness, six months ago an actual Norse god appeared on Earth. I saw the video feeds and if those guys really exist, then sure, I'll believe in dragons. I'm really disappointed that I haven't seen it yet. Does it have something against California or New York? Why so much in the Midwest, what's out there other than farmers? I don't know. Come to think about it, wasn't the dragon's first appearance in New Mexico?"

"Yes, it was."

"Wow! First aliens, then gods and now dragons. Keep your eye on that place, it is a hotbed."

"Yes, we suppose it is, thank y-"

"My bed is way hotter, though. Just ask my fiancée!"

**_beeeeeeeep..._**

Ah… we apologize for that on behalf of Mr. Stark. We'd also like to congratulate him and Stark Industries CEO, Pepper Potts, on their engagement...

It should be noted that reactions to the dragon have not all been positive. Recent polls show that a whooping 42 percent of US citizens are calling for the dragon's destruction. Several bills have already been introduced to Congress, all from various anti-dragon organizations, which would make dragon hunting legal. So far, none of these bills have made it passed the House, thanks in great part to blocking by animal rights groups including PETA. This is another hotly debated issue at the moment. The most cited argument by anti-dragon citizens being the two reported deaths at the scene of it's first appearance in Puente Antiguo.

The first was three year old Maria Christian, killed in her bed when a Molotov cocktail thrown at the dragon instead landed in her bedroom while she slept, killing her instantly. Reports say that the dragon swung the makeshift bomb back at its attackers. It flew through her window, blowing up her entire bedroom and the top half of the house. Many animal rights groups believe this to have been unintentional on the dragon's part, calling it an act of self-defense gone horribly wrong. Maria Christian's family was unavailable for comment.

The second was noted astrophysicist, Jane Foster, aged 31. Dr. Foster was stationed in New Mexico studying wormholes. Her shredded clothing, along with bits of blood and hair were found by her research assistant, Darcy Lewis several hours after the attack.

Many have lobbied for official memorials to be erected in honor of the deceased, and recently we caught up with Ms. Lewis, to see what she had to say about the situation. Ms. Lewis denied an interview and wouldn't speak to our reporter in the field, except to say the following:

_"I just want you and whoever else is listening to know: I don't know what this thing is and I don't care. I don't want to know where it came from or what it is or what it wants, and I don't understand why anyone would care about that. That monster killed my friend and an innocent little girl. I don't want anything except to see it dead."_

This is Kent Tucker for DragonWatch, Action News at 11. Thank you and goodnight.


	3. Chapter 2

**A/N: A couple of things to note before we begin this chapter. First of all, this story is a post-Thor AU were the bifrost wasn't destroyed and therefore Loki didn't fall off, so the events of the Avengers don't happen here.**

**Also, I've been getting a lot of comments from people trying to guess the identity of Jane's attacker in the prologue. Most of them are suggesting villains from the comics like Amora the Enchantress. The thing is, I don't read any comics, I don't have the time. All of my Thor/Avengers fanfics are based on the movies, so the person who did this to Jane is not someone from the comics. I'm really sorry if that's what anyone was expecting. I hope you continue to enjoy the story anyway. Chapters will be much longer from here on in, so that's going to be good.**

* * *

The Asgardian palace is home to the most extensive library in all the nine realms. One needs not travel them to know this. Over the centuries, the All-Father has filled it to bursting with books from all over. Whenever more room is needed, a new wing is created, and thus it will continue until the end of time itself.

With so many great halls and different sections to choose from, it's easy to get lost if you're not familiar enough with the layout. That has never been a problem for Loki. Not even restraining his magic can change the fact that this place is as much a home for him as his very own chambers. The lack of tracking spells does make things a little more difficult. This morning, it took him ten minutes to find the section on physics where he took his breakfast and partook in some light reading. It's only supposed to take five.

As soon as he begins reading, he feels better. He gets lost in the words he's read a dozen times before but never tires of. He lets himself forget about his life for this small window of time: his crimes, his punishment, his true lineage, the contemptuous stares and whispers tossed at him from every direction from the people who once called him friend, the way Thor can barely meet his eye and how Frigga is close to tears every night at dinner. He would start taking all his meals in here just to spare her the pain of his presence. If only the All-Father would let him.

Not that any of it matters. Regret, disillusionment and mind-numbing frustrations are for now but wisps of smoke to him, until his next dinner with the 'family'.

He never settles for just one book, his mind works far too quickly for that. Twenty are stacked up on either side of him within the hour, so high that when one of Asgard's great sorceresses comes by, she cannot see him to issue another sneer like she's been doing ever since it was deemed safe. He never realized before now how much he missed the quiet moments. Even before Thor's failed coronation, he was constantly getting pulled into hunting trips and training sessions and teaching magic to people who barely understood what he was saying, let alone cared. His complaints, he stifled and at times he may have enjoyed the challenges, but he was a solitary creature by nature. He needs these moments of reprieve. He also needs to distract himself while on his own. Letting his mind wander too far for too long invariably leads him to dark places. The people of Asgard should count themselves lucky that he has been tethered. If they knew what he truly felt when he looked upon his so-called family, if they knew how he felt every time he reached for his magic and it wasn't there…

Oh, but he's going off again, and that's unacceptable.

Loki opens his twenty-first book of the day. He doubts he has much time left before someone comes for him. He hears a cough. A small servant girl stands before him demurely, like it's taking all her strength just to keep her legs still.

"Prince Loki," she says. "The All-Father wishes to speak with you."

He follows her as far is the history section and then dismisses her; he knows the rest of the way from here. The girl is all too happy to oblige, and runs before catching herself in a stumble. She disappears down another aisle and Loki moves on.

Several courtiers and soldiers wander up and down the hallways, not really going anywhere but just enjoying the beautiful scenery outside. It's summertime on Asgard, Loki's least favorite time of the year. He pulls at his too tight collar, and finds it damp with sweat. He should have put on something lighter this morning. If he still had his magic, he could just change the material of what he already wore, made it lighter, looser, more insulated. Or he could have lowered his own body temperature a bit to make up for the external heat. The possibilities were limitless.

Of course, if he still had his magic, he wouldn't even be in Asgard at all.

He doesn't have to walk far to reach the throne room, announcing his arrival by throwing open the doors with excessive force. The All-Father is atop his throne, the same one Loki occupied just a few short months ago. He's not surprised to see Thor in the foreground, but Sif and the Warriors Three are a surprise. He'd thought they wanted nothing to do with him now. Loki ignores them for now and gives the All-Father a sarcastic bow.

"Greetings All-Father," he says. "I am honored to have been summoned to stand before you, oh great King of Asgard."

Fandral snarls at him and makes for his sword, stopped only by Thor shoving him back. He doesn't look any happier to see Loki than the rest of them, but of course he would defend his fake brother, his new found honor wouldn't allow for any less.

"Loki," Odin's voice booms over the ruckus. "You have been quiet as of late."

"Is that not what you wanted?" Loki mockingly asks. "My obedience? I hope I've been as good a pet to you as I once was."

The All-Father closes his one eye, a pained expression that definitely does not make Loki's stomach clench crosses his aging features.

"I have a proposition for you, my son," he says.

Loki's mouth twitches. He keeps from saying what he desperately wants to in the interest of seeing where this goes, not that he's likely to agree to whatever it is.

"It involves some rather peculiar happenings on Midgard as of late."

"Does it?" He glances at the stone-faced Thor, who is clutching Mjolnir in his hand like the hammer is his lifeline. "Cause some more trouble for the realm when I wasn't looking?"

"You've done enough of that on your own, Silvertongue," Fandral hisses.

Again, all it takes is a glare from Thor to silence him. Loki doesn't know why Fandral bothers. It's not like that fool could ever get under his skin if he tried.

"If we're quite finished playing games," Loki turns his back to them as he speaks. "May I hear what this proposition is, All-Father?"

Odin leans forward, like he's about to tell Loki something of dire importance. Loki's already formed a response to the All-Father's request, and it's not going to be anything the old man wants to hear.

"Some time ago, a dragon appeared on Midgard near the place of Thor's banishment. He has requested that you accompany him and the Warriors Three to Midgard to hunt the beast down.

Just like that, Loki's biting refusal melts away on his tongue. He crosses his hands behind his back and takes small steps. He wants it to look like he's thinking it over; he's really just waiting for someone to laugh in his face and tell him it's all a joke. He looks at Fandral, the one most likely to give something away, but for once he seems to be emulating Hogun's frosty stoicism. Thor's similar state had not gone unnoticed, but only now does Loki wonder if his intensity is not related to Loki's presence at all.

"Have you nothing to say?" Odin asks, his voice breaking Loki from his train of thought.

"I am… quite surprised," he says. "This is an unexpected development to say the least. I needn't remind you of the many years we spent searching the nine realms for dragons, only to find nothing."

"You needn't."

The All-Father leaves his throne and steps down. Thor reaches out to help him, but the All-Father avoids his hand. He rarely needs assistance even after the longest and deepest Odinsleep. "It was determined that no such creature existed beyond the words of the storytellers, a mere fable."

Loki nods, glancing down at his hands. "Truly a shame. The potential of such a beast would have been great."

He remembers well his younger years, accompanying the All-Father and Thor on fruitless quests for the creature so many had insisted was real. A dragon was made by magic and for magic, they would say. Its scales could be forged into shields that would never break. Its teeth ground into powder could fuel a thousand potions. From its blood came a salve that could cure all but death itself. If Asgard could harness such power, they would truly be the greatest of the nine realms, with no one to stand against them.

It was a beautiful dream, and in the end, nothing more than that. A full three decades went into hunting down the beast, and they never found a trace of it. They returned home tired and angry with so much time and energy wasted, until the next big war reared its head and the failure was forgotten.

But now, after all these years… could it be true?

Odin is standing before him, and Loki didn't even realize that he'd moved. Gungnir taps against the floor with great resonance. Odin himself just looks smaller up close. It's always been his power and his regal countenance that makes you feel six inches tall. Loki likes to tell himself he's beyond that now. Maybe one day he will mean it.

"The Midgardians have tried and failed to hunt the dragon down," the All-Father goes on.

Loki chuckles. "I can imagine. A very primitive race, are they not? They think they can take on the universe at large when they can't even stop fighting among themselves."

"And how many wars have you fought in the name of Asgard?" Odin calmly counters. "Not always against an invading race."

Loki's smile fades, and Fandral and Volstagg laugh softly behind him. Would that Loki could silence their stupid mouths. He is completely trapped by the All-Father's gaze, so that even when Odin turns his back to him, Loki is immobile. Odin shares a look with his true son, speaking to him without words. A hand rests on Thor's shoulder, fingers squeezing into the armor. There is something comforting about it, like Odin is trying to quell the flames raging behind Thor's calm exterior. Loki doesn't know why he bothers. Thor is loud, boorish and ruled by his emotions. He always has been, and no amount of humility will ever change that.

Thor sucks in a breath and nods to his father.

"I would not make this decision lightly, Loki," he says to him. "After all that you have done, I can scarcely be in the same room as you."

Loki lowers his head, if only so Thor won't see his smile. He'd never know how very mutual a feeling it was.

He touches Loki's forearm, his fingers burning cold. For a moment, Thor is relaxed and full of melancholy rather than boundless rage.

"It matters not, you are my brother Loki, and I have lost much. I will not let you go as well."

Thor's hand tightens, and in Loki's weakened state it actually hurts a little. He doesn't try to get away, it's all but impossible at this point. He just keeps looking Thor in the eye, challenging him to back down and rescind his request. Because really, this whole thing nothing short of nonsense. Bringing him along on a mission as important as this? And to Midgard, a realm Loki has already attacked once before (if only on a very small scale)?

Loki hides all these questions behind an indifference that Thor is, of course, completely fooled by.

"I'm serious, Loki. You will come with me on this quest. I will not let you refuse."

He shakes Loki once, and after his brain is done rattling around in his head, Loki lifts a hand in surrender.

"I have not yet accepted or declined," he says, "but I admit you have made me curious. You say you have lost much, but I look around and cannot imagine what you mean by it. You appear to have everything at your fingertips. Literally in some cases."

He eyes the hand bruising his forearm and then Mjolnir, trapped in a similar death grip. If the mighty hammer had a true consciousness, it would be screaming in pain.

Just like that, anger seeps into Thor's expression again, and it makes Loki glad that his former brother lets him go so he can pace, looking out into the massive sunset with his cape flowing.

A single word passes his lips.

"Jane…"

Everyone bows their heads. Even Volstagg is smart enough to follow along. The very air seems to go quiet, powered by their solemnity, and Loki thinks for a moment that he's out of place in all this.

He knows, of course, who Thor is talking about. He saw her himself once, if only for a split second and not with his own eyes. She had been scared at the time, her home crumbling around her under the Destroyer's fury. Loki doubts that even in her natural state she'd be anything to speak about; just a common mortal woman, fairly pretty but hardly beautiful. He couldn't say what about her drew Thor in, but Thor had never been all that choosy about his bedmates.

What then, does she have to do with all this?

Loki voices the question and is at first bombarded with harsh stares and hisses at speaking so bluntly. Like before, he just smiles back.

"She was killed," Thor says thickly. His meaty fists shake violently, like he is aching to hit something. He probably has before. "The beast murdered her, ripped her apart until nothing remained."

Loki feels like he should say something, but there is nothing to say, even if he wanted to. Provide comfort to Thor of all people? After everything that had happened? Loki would laugh if he wasn't so close to being attacked four times over. Sif and the Warriors Three do the job for him anyway, as they crowd around their leader with Sif at the forefront. Loki smirks at her back, secretly quite amused. How much she must have celebrated when her latest competition was ripped out of Thor's grasp. Not that she is short of that in Asgard itself. He is certain those foolish sorceresses would be loitering at the door giggling like schoolgirls were this not such an important meeting.

"I see," Loki says. "So this is more than just a scientific expedition for you. You want revenge for your lover."

Thor looks over his shoulder, with eyes so cold that they send a chill down Loki's spine. When was the last time Thor was like this? He was more attached to that mortal than Loki thought.

He turns to Odin.

"Now, I don't believe you are going to send me into the fray defenseless, are you?"

His tightened lips turn to a wide and toothy grin as Odin grimly raises one hand and the familiar touch of magic washes over Loki's body.

* * *

Odin convinces Thor to wait a few days before leaving. The reasoning is sound: Loki needs time with Heimdall, the only one in the realm to actually see this dragon with his own eyes, to gain a better understanding of what they are dealing with. Everyone else should practice new techniques for hunting something so large, and Thor should be taking the time to come up with a plan of assault. Thor makes no secret his frustration with this command, but he grits his teeth in the end and accepts it.

Working with Heimdall is an exercise in patience for the both of them. Heimdall is wary of the disgraced prince and Loki can't say he's any happier. Through a magical connection that only the most experienced mage can foster, Loki sees visions through Heimdall's eyes of the dragon attacking various cities on Midgard. He sees their armies banding together to take it out and failing miserably every time. He sees the dragon flying away from explosions and gunfire as mortals scream death at it. He sees it carrying bags up a mountain, covering itself in heavy smoke as camouflage. Events seem to happen out of order. One minute, the dragon is failing to avoid a fireball launched at its wing, the next it evades with graceful movements.

The strangest thing about the creature is its eyes. Loki only sees them clearly one or two times, but they are never what he expects them to be. The golden color and slotted iris is reptilian enough, but there is something else there that strikes him. It's especially prevalent when the dragon is in battle. A pattern develops before his eyes, where the dragon would be attacked, fight back with a roar and a sweep of it's wings and tail to deflect the Midgardian's weapons, fly away when they ran out and weave around the flying machines they sent after it until it's out of sight. Loki comes away from the meeting significantly less enthused than when he arrived.

He knocks on the door to Thor's room and then walks in anyway. Thor is sitting by the window, Mjolnir hanging loose for once over his wrist. He has a leg up and leans heavily on it, his face hidden from view. He raises not a finger at Loki's arrival, though he must know that he is no longer alone.

"Leave me be," he says before Loki can get a word out. "I am busy."

"I can see that," Loki says dryly.

"I am making a plan of attack, and I do not wish to be disturbed," he says harshly. "Leave me, Loki."

Loki rolls his eyes and does the exact opposite. If Thor thought he wouldn't, they really don't know each other at all.

"That is what I wished to discuss with you, actually."

Loki looks out at the shining city of Asgard. It is truly a beautiful sight to behold. All sparking gold and warmth and peace, washing away an ugly underbelly that not even the realm eternal is immune to.

"Whatever it is, it can wait," Thor says.

"It cannot," Loki counters. "I have returned from my time with Heimdall with a new outlook. It may be hard for you to understand, but I believe there is more to this creature than we realize."

Somewhere in there is the magic words to drive Thor out of his stupor. He spins himself around and stands. He has barely an inch on Loki but he does all he can to look bigger. Unlike the All-Father, he hasn't the presence to back it up.

"What are you saying?" Thor growls. "You think that there is good to this foul creature? You think it misunderstood?"

"I have said no such thing," Loki answers calmly, but with anger seeping into his tone. "I merely think it unwise to kill the beast outright. From what I have seen, it does not have the instinct of a killer. It seems more interested in defending itself from harm than causing it. I would instead propose that we capture it for study. A live subject would far outweigh a dead one in usefulness."

"Enough."

It's not a strong command, but a final one all the same. Thor backs Loki up to the door and into the hallway, all the while completely shut off from him and everything else.

"I will hear no more stories from you," he says. "We will capture this beast, and when we do, we will kill it, and return home with its corpse. Jane Foster and all those it has hurt will be avenged."

Thor slams the door in his face.

* * *

They all stand together on the Bifrost the next day. It feels a bit strange to Loki. The last time he was here, Thor was almost forced to destroy it to prevent Loki's destruction of Jotunhiem. How fortunate that the All-Father arrived just in time to end the attack without it going so far, and the frost giants would live to kill, maim and destroy another day. Loki inhales deeply through his nose and lets it out slowly, again and again until his stomach settles and he can actually listen to what the All-Father is telling them.

It's nothing worth remembering: they must stay safe and keep the Midgradians out of the fight as much as possible. He asks that they all stick together as a group and casts a meaningful glance at Loki and then Thor as he says it. Thor, for his part, could not be more focused, on everything but Loki beside him. They haven't spoken to each other since yesterday, and that is just fine as far as Loki is concerned. Several times, Thor tried to approach him, or almost called out to him from afar. Every time, something stopped him, be it intervention from another or that rarely used common sense of his kicking in. Loki can only say that he is grateful.

The only person showing any form of emotion is Frigga, who has come along with Odin to see them off, and never takes her misty eyes off of Loki no matter how much he averts his gaze. She is still the only member of his former family who can push him down with the cold hand of regret, and he would hate her for it if he could.

"That is all that I have to say," Odin finishes. "Come back soon, and come back victorious. I will watch over you all."

"We thank you, All-Father," Thor says.

He stands up straighter as Odin signals to Heimdall. The gatekeeper starts up the Bifrost. It roars in Loki's ears, and the last thing he sees before the light washes over him and pulls them all away from home is Frigga, her hands clasped together, and her lips moving to form silent words that are only meant for him.

_'Be strong.'_

And suddenly, he has the most awful feeling in the pit of his stomach, like there is something she knows and he does not.

* * *

They arrive in a desolate wasteland blanketed in golden sand. He lands on his feet, the smoothest of the bunch besides the agile Sif and the boundlessly determined Thor who leads the way.

"Oh, Odin's beard," Fandral moans as he picks himself up. "I hate the Bifrost."

_'Idiot,_' Loki thinks.

"What sort of place is this?" Hogun thinks aloud.

"It is a desert of some sort," Sif says. "I don't understand, Heimdall said he would send us to the last place the dragon was seen. Why would it be somewhere so empty of life?"

"Hiding from another ambush, perhaps?" Loki suggests. He is at Thor's back and goes unacknowledged. "We should not allow ourselves to become unguarded so soon. There are a million places the creature can hide."

"Out here?" Volstagg shouts, raising his arms to the vast nothingness that goes on for miles. "I see not how that is possible."

"I agree," says Fandral. "And if I may, I believe our helpful mage should keep his mouth shut unless he has something useful to say."

"Are you sure?" Loki dully asks. "The threat of spewing nonsense has never stopped you. Why should I not be similarly exempt?"

"Both of you, be silent," Sif snaps at them. "Or else I will silence you myself. We have a job to do here and this is not it."

Fandral looks ready to complain some more, so Loki speeds up to match Thor's pace. He is marginally better company than the rest. At least he won't talk.

Indeed, they go for miles through the blazing sun with only a few handy cooling spells to keep them from overheating and not a word passing between them. An unknown period of time happens before anything more interesting than Volstagg's off-key humming of old war ballads occurs.

They hear a sound, like the call of a bird. The entire party stops in its tracks, watching the spot it came from carefully. An entire flock of them fly in the distance, squawking and cawing at each other like mad. Over the warriors' heads they go, becoming just a speck on the horizon, their cries vanishing.

"Now what do you suppose got into them?" Volstagg asks, even though they all know the answer.

Thor hefts Mjolnir. "Stay close, friends. We may have visitors soon."

There are several rings as everyone draws forth their weapon of choice, everyone but Loki who is looking out into the far off mountain range. He feels Thor's eyes on him, but offers not a glance in his direction.

"We all need to be prepared," Thor says again for his benefit. "We know what we're dealing with."

"Do we?" Loki asks.

That's enough for Thor, it seems. He turns Loki around himself and makes him meet his eye.

_"This is no game,"_ he growls. "I do not know what you think you saw, but you should know as well as any of us that this thing does not have a mind like ours. It does not have morals, and has nothing but its own instincts that drive it to destruction."

"I didn't know you had so much insight into the mental process of a creature we believed non-existent until now," Loki says.

"I needn't know its mind," Thor answers, walking ahead of the rest. "I need only know a monster's, and I do."

He leads them further into the desert, and as a result, further into the heat. Loki must strengthen the spells again and again, and it is taxing on him, having gone as long as he has without a drop of power. He won't make this known. He would never admit something so shameful to Thor's ears. The others will take the layer of sweat on his face as merely a sign of the heat and dismiss it, just as he wants them to.

When the shadow appears over their heads and blocks out the sun, there is a moment where they are all frozen. As greatly honed as their reaction time is, this is no normal fight no matter how much they pretend it is, and there is a hint of apprehension that permeates through them all. Thor regains himself first, letting out a war cry as the dragon circles.

"Be ready, now!" he shouts. He spins Mjolnir around, bending his knees in preparation. Loki looks up, the dragon is directly above them now. So if Thor does this…

"Thor, wait!"

It's too late.

Thor launches himself in the air, like a bird it flight he glides upward. He collides headfirst with the dragon's stomach; itt lets out a terrible scream-like roar and goes down. Loki and the rest must run to get out of the way, and Loki's cape barely escapes getting caught under the creature's girth as it hits the ground. The land shakes and Loki loses his footing. It's lucky for them there are no mortals around. They would come running after something like that.

"Thor?" Sif runs around the creature's prone form, searching for signs of him. "Thor! Answer me!"

He raises his head, sitting on top of the dragon's belly with Mjolnir in hand.

"It's only knocked out," Thor cries out. "We must act quickly before it awakens. Go for its head now!"

The Warriors Three move to comply, while Sif rushes to help Thor down. Loki stands back to watch their fumbling. His feelings of dread are only getting stronger by the second.

"So this is the plan you spend the night coming up with?" he calls out.

Thor scowls at him. "Loki, this is no time to-"

The dragon's eyes snap open, and in an instant it is on its feet and Thor is half an inch away from being crushed. He rolls out from underneath, and Sif assists with a good swing at the dragon's leg. It gives no reaction and whips its tail over Sif's head. It misses her by a wide margin but she jumps back to evade anyway. The Warriors Three take the dragon's front while its distracted, and also get some hits in. It still does little beyond irritate the dragon, who swats a mighty wing at them, the force of it knocking them over.

Loki learns right away that dragons are creatures of great strength, because 'knocking them over' constitutes flinging them at least forty feet in the air into a pile of rock. He would make a quip about their harden skulls saving them from damage, but that would be childish and he's too distracted to come up with something clever.

The dragon puffs smoke out its nostrils, seemingly in disdain, and then turns its attention to the remaining attackers. Thor is stalking towards it, flipping Mjolnir over in his hand.

"You're mine," he hisses.

Sif stays close, but allows Thor to approach the dragon unaccompanied. Loki brings up the rear, hardly moving at all. The dragon is different now, it's not trying to fight anymore. It's not doing anything but staring at Thor. It's slotted eyes are widening, until the irises are round and almost… human.

It gives a soft little roar, and it must be all in Loki's mind that it sounds like Thor's name is in there.

Thor stands before the creature. It seems to be struggling with what to do next. It should just fly away, Loki thinks as Thor raises his hammer high into the sky. It has no idea what is about to befall it. Storm clouds darken the sky and form a spiral over their heads. The wind picks up and plays with Loki's lengthy hair. A rumble of thunder jolts the dragon awake and it watches in awe as the lightning hits Mjolnir, and everything around them seems to explode.

"Stay back," he tells everyone. "This won't take long."

Time slows for the next couple of seconds, as the dragon finally realizes the risk. It narrows its yellow eyes and growls, though Loki senses there is more bark to it than bite. Thor jumps into the air, snarling at the dragon. It jumps as well, the two of them going higher and higher in the air. Thor's power is incredible, especially after receiving a boost such as that, but it doesn't make up for the lack of actual flight capability. The dragon flies out of his reach, circling them with a screech as Thor falls back to the ground. He gets to his knees to absorb the fall. Meanwhile, the dragon flies lower to the ground, and Sif takes the opportunity to aim a well-placed throw of her glave at the dragon's stomach. Unlike the attacks to its front and side, this one takes. The glave buries itself into soft flesh and the dragon falls.

It thrashes around in pain, thumping its tail against the ground so that it shakes harder. Loki does fall this time, as does everyone else. Not even Thor can stay up and all the orders he shouts go unheard. Loki feels like his eardrums will break, but he forces himself to focus through the pain. The others are just close enough that this will work. Loki throws his arms out and his head back, chanting the spell and feeling the magic ripple through his body and out his fingers. It takes shape as a glowing blue circle, entrapping them all within its boundaries. Inside the shield, the tremors are ineffective. Everyone scrambles to their feet and crowd around him, as if proximity with lend potency to the spell. They seem to forget how much Loki hates people invading his space.

"It's strong," Hogun observes. "Stronger than I thought."

"Stronger than any of us thought," Sif says.

The dragon stretches its head and lets out a bigger, longer screech than ever before. Its mouth opens all the way, revealing rows of sharp teeth and a long tongue. Thor smacks a fist on the shield wall before it.

"We won't give up here," he says wildly. "This isn't over."

"Would you like to try making an actual plan this time?" Loki asks dryly. "It couldn't hurt."

He expects the same old glares again, but oddly enough, it's Sif who expresses her agreement.

"Loki is right, Thor, we cannot just rush into battle again. We must try something else before the humans get involved."

Her words, at least, Thor takes to heart. Loki hears him mutter under his breath about the monster's strengths and how to bypass them. The Warriors Three begin throwing out ideas, most of which get dropped at some point or another. Loki tries to contribute, but the dragon is acting strangely again, taking up all his attention. It has stopped trying to stretch its long neck to its stomach to pull out the glave and now it's looking at them.

No, it's looking at _him_.

Loki shifts himself to one side, the dragon's eyes following his movements. He becomes deaf to his former brother's ramblings and finds he can't look away from the strange creature. There is something there in its gaze like the first time. Its understanding- its comprehension- the way no 'mindless killer beast' should ever be capable of. It is a _human_ face.

Loki glances away just for a moment, confirming to himself that he's the only one whose noticed. When he looks back, the dragon's forearm is smashing into his shield.

From there, everything comes to him in bursts. He feels his body make contact with the ground. It hurts more than it should have. He hears Thor screaming for another attack, and the rest of them rushing to obey. He hears the dragon's roar and feels its claws wrap around his waist. He hears many voices screaming his name, with one very deep and desperate sounding voice being the loudest. He hears the powerful beating of the dragon's wings at it lifts them higher and feels the sting of the wind it generates in his scraped skin. He feels a terrible aching in his head that makes him think maybe he should sleep for a while and deal with all of this later.

So that's exactly what he does.

* * *

Thor is on his hands and knees, Mjolnir useless at his side. He can no longer move as the dragon flies off with more speed than anything- man or beast- should be capable of. His little brother rests in the monster's claws, further and further from his reach.

"Loki…" he whispers.

He thinks he hears Sif at his side, telling him to get up so they can try and go after them. They can't have gotten very far. If they start now, maybe they can follow the trail and find Loki by nightfall.

But Thor knows her words are empty. It is just wishful thinking and nothing more. There is no way they can catch up to the dragon like this. They can't traverse an unfamiliar world without a sorcerer's help, and they can't save Loki when they are already worn out from battle.

They can't save Loki.

He couldn't stop that monster from taking his brother.

First Jane, now Loki...

Tears spill down Thor's face, and the scream that rips from his throat is long and loud, furious and sorrowful, and would put the roars of a thousand dragons together to shame.


	4. Interlude 1

**VIVA LAS VEGAS: ANOTHER DRAGON SPOTTING IN NEVADA**

by Evelyn Page

Heads up, everyone! America's very own dragon has made yet another appearance over the Mojave Desert.

Last night, a group of tourists in Las Vegas reported seeing the dragon flying due North- Northwest into the desert. Several others called in around the same time, corroborating reports that the dragon was carrying something in it's claws.

One was New York City legal secretary Rebecca Sawyer, in Las Vegas for the holidays. "I only saw it for a couple of seconds," she says. "And it was pretty dark out for Vegas. I was in a less busy part of the city for... _personal_ reasons. I know that it was carrying something, even though I couldn't really make out what it was. I just know it was long and black and kind of just hanging there."

"I think it was a sack or something," says blackjack dealer Joey Montelli. "That thing's always carrying sacks of gold or whatever on the news, so it's probably just more of that. Greedy old bastard, that dragon is."

Others, however, do not see the encounter in so innocent or whimsical a light, including Los Angeles diner waitress Sandy Harvard.

"It was carrying a person," she says. "I couldn't see any features or if it was a man or a woman, but I know it was a person, and they definitely weren't moving."

These are just a few of the many theories suggested since last night, re-fueling debates on such topics as the dragon's origins and it's relationship with the human race. Only one thing is for sure: dragon watching is quickly becoming everyone's favorite pastime.

* * *

**A/N: Don't mind me, just building up some tension.**

**The next chapter proper will be up October 2nd.**


	5. Chapter 3

Loki comes to several times over the course of the next few hours. Each time, he opens his eyes to a darkening sky that seems endless. When he looks down, there are patches of plains and buildings stretched out over a planet that looks much bigger than it is. His ears pound with blood, rushing around his head and making him unbearably dizzy. He hears the dragon's wings beating against the heavy wind just before losing consciousness again.

The one time he wakes up for real, it's been long enough that the sun is rising, and there is a mountain range directly below them, coming closer and closer as the dragon prepares to land. Its bottom feet touch ground at an awkward angle, it must not be used to carrying around something like him in its claws. It tries to keep upright so not to crush him under its weight, and eventually just drops him the remaining twenty feet to the ground. Such a fall would injure if not kill a human, but Loki is no human, and the dragon clearly knows it.

He lands hard but gracefully with his knees bent. After catching his breath and taking a moment to let his vision clear, Loki looks up. What he sees is amazing, yet predictable for the most part. The cavern is wide and spacious, so much that he wonders if this seemingly sturdy mountain is completely hollow inside. A towering pile of carts, sacks and bags take up at least half of the area, the stronger containers making up most of the bottom layers and supporting the lighter material of the top. The contents is all but a mystery to Loki, who can see through a couple of the less dense bags but can't make out anything more than articles of clothing and a few books. There are definitely a few shiny objects in there and they make the entire dirty pile sparkle, like they are filled with the world's greatest treasures rather than just some mortal's junk.

Loki turns to the dragon. It's watching him with those strange, all too knowing eyes again.

"So," Loki says conversationally and without a hint of fear. "I suppose I am your latest prize."

He walks around the pile, picking at a few loose odds and ends. He kicks a ratty old doll out of his way, and it hits the opposite wall and emits a high pitched sound before going quiet. He picks up a few loose pages of a book; the first paragraph is something about a boy named Harry and people flying around on broomsticks. He tosses them aside as well.

"Rather odd that you would take me when your... decor tell so much about your average tastes."

The dragon is motionless as Loki continues to walk around its home like he's the owner and it's an unwanted guest.

"I should warn you, I am not the most pleasant company." His lips curl into a sinister smile. "I am a worse hostage. I'm far more inclined to having my captors rip out their own hearts and feed them to each other than cowering."

A puff of smoke issues from the dragon's nose. If it's a threat, it's not a very good one. He has read several times the stories of dragons with the ability to breath fire. Even before it was determined that dragons didn't exist, Loki had questioned it. How could any sort of creature create fire inside it's body, let alone emit it out the mouth, without getting burned themselves in the process. The only possible explanation was some sort of magical protection the dragon placed over itself, which would mean that it was capable of harnessing the magic it supposedly possessed, subconsciously or otherwise.

But now he's getting off-topic.

Loki walks around the dragon, who follows him with its eyes and still makes no attempt to stop him. He can't be sure how much effect his words have, or even if the beast understands him. It's bizarrely human facial expressions are all the evidence he has so far and he's going to need more.

Going to the opening of the cavern, he looks over the edge at a drop of several hundred feet to a ground that looks like a tiny square of green surrounded on every side by dry brown rock. Leaving now would be a bit difficult.

He hears the dragon moving around behind him, thinking for a moment that it's done letting him have free reign and is going to lock him away in a cage like a good little pet. Loki considers briefly which parts of the dragon he would remove for trying such a thing, and then realizes that he still hasn't felt it's breath on him. It doesn't appear to be anywhere near him at all. He does hear that scritch-scratching though, but when he looks, the dragon isn't even watching him anymore. Its too busy kneeling it's massive body into the dirt and drawing shapes with it's sharp claw.

How very... unexpected.

Scrunching his brow, Loki gets closer to try and make out what the dragon is drawing. It doesn't look like anything so far, just random lines all close together. It pauses for a moment, looking like it's thinking hard about something, then swipes away its little doodle and starts again with a half circle.

Loki starts to get bored and almost walks away again to contemplate his eventual escape, but as the dragon goes on drawing, something peculiar happens.

It appears to be writing.

CAN YOU READ THIS?

Loki's eyes scan the crude written sentence again and again. It's not in his native language, but he knows every word by heart. In the past, he studied several Midgardian dialects when there was nothing better to do.

"I... see that you can write," he says, bringing a hand to his chin.

The dragon hums something and kneels, wiping away the words and starting anew.

I NEED YOUR HELP.

"My help?" Loki says incredulously. This is very quickly becoming like something out of a poorly written fairy tale. Loki has never ached for his own room in Asgard more.

YOU'RE LOKI RIGHT?

Loki says nothing, but nods his head once when the dragon looks for a response.

THOR'S BROTHER?

Loki grits his teeth and looks away angrily, which is good enough for the dragon.

I WANT YOU TO HELP ME BECOME HUMAN AGAIN.

Loki reads the message twice, and still isn't sure he understands what he's reading. He knows objectively what the dragon is trying to say, but...

Clearing his throat, Loki looks at the dragon again, really looks at it. It is roughly as tall as a small tower and covered in dark purple scales. It walks on all fours, and sharp claws adorn each foot. It's long snout hides a mouth of teeth that could tear the flesh from his bones if he allowed it. Its eyes were the sole oddity, and that only counts for the emotions they convey. In appearance, they were purely animal.

And it would like him to believe that underneath all of that is a human.

Just when he thought today couldn't get stranger.

"I... am sorry, I'm afraid I don't know what you mean."

The dragon scowls, and blows more smoke at him. It reaches out a claw and writes again in a different part of the ground, one that leaves the original message undamaged and gives her much more sand to work with.

I KNOW THIS SOUNDS CRAZY...

Loki laughs inwardly.

...BUT IT'S THE TRUTH. I AM A HUMAN, SOMEONE MADE ME THIS WAY AND I NEED TO GET BACK TO NORMAL FAST.

It takes time for the dragon to write everything out. Loki reads it upside down as it goes, mouthing each word as it becomes clear.

I DON'T KNOW WHO DID THIS. IT WAS DARK AND I COULDN'T SEE THEIR FACE. THEY USED SOME KIND OF MAGIC TO MAKE ME LIKE THIS. EVER SINCE THEN, I'VE BEEN TRYING TO FIGURE OUT A WAY TO CHANGE BACK, BUT I DON'T EVEN KNOW HOW THEY DID IT IN THE FIRST PLACE, LET ALONE HOW TO REVERSE IT.

Loki nods along with the explanation, and as the beast goes on, he starts to feel the control he _needs_ to have in every situation coming to him bit by bit.

"So you wish for me to restore your human form," he says. "You believe I am capable of this."

He clasps his hands behind his back, standing tall before an expectant gaze. It grunts softly, head bowed, a plea if Loki ever saw one. He smiles.

"Well, much as I'd like to help you, there are a few unresolved matters that cannot be ignored. Do not forget that am I only here because you kidnapped you."

The dragon falters. It writes out another long message, with strokes shakier than the last.

I KNOW, AND I'M SORRY. I'VE BEEN SO BUSY TRYING TO STAY ALIVE AND FIND A WAY TO FIX THIS. THEN I SAW YOU USING MAGIC, AND I KNEW RIGHT THEN THAT IF ANYONE COULD HELP ME, IT WOULD BE YOU. I KNOW THAT DOESN'T EXCUSE IT, BUT I SWEAR TO YOU, IF YOU HELP ME, I WILL GIVE YOU ANYTHING YOU WANT.

Loki raises an eyebrow at that last part. He hadn't cared in the slightest, and was prepared to incapacitate the beast and leave right up until then, but lately all his expectations of people are being defied, aren't they?

"Anything?" he sports a grin that he swears makes the dragon back away from him. "Oh you poor dear thing, that is _not_ something you should say to me."

He runs a hand along the dragon's leg. Any twinge of fear he may have felt before now is long gone. The dragon makes no move to stop him, even as he stands behind it and examines the plates on it's tail. He traces them an inch above the air, until it pulls its tail away from him and takes a defensive stance. To its clear consternation, Loki is unmoved

"You're a fascinating creature, my friend," he says. "The stuff of legends."

LIKE YOU, it writes.

"Ah, but I am real, and I always have been." He takes another walk around it. "The people of Midgard- your people I suppose if you are in earnest- have told countless stories about both Asgard and dragons, but up until now, it was believed by even the most well-read Asgardian scholar that dragons were simply a myth. Perhaps we, of all people, should have known better."

He leaves out how grossly untrue or exaggerated most of the stories about him are, particularly anything involving animals. He'll get to that at a later date.

"You seem to have been doing your reading," he casts a glance at a cart full of books that have pages torn up like a rabid beast has taken to them. "At least as much as you can. You are surely aware of the incredible magic your kind is said to possess."

The dragon is, and it knows exactly what Loki is getting at, if the way it close even further into itself and glares heatedly at him means anything.

"Now, don't be like that," Loki says like one scolding a disobedient child. "You're the one who came to me for help and offered me whatever I asked in return, and what I'm asking for is very little: a few scales, a tooth, a claw perhaps for study. Would you not like to know if the stories are true? I can find out, and who knows? If you do have magic in you, and I can find a way to harness it, it could be just what you need to become human again."

The dragon tilts its large head to one side. Its claw remains stationary, the last message partially erased by a sudden gust of wind. Loki waits patiently, hands drawn behind his back and posture as unthreatening as he could consciously make it. If the dragon doesn't accept these terms, it would be back to the original plan. He creates a double of himself and hides it further into the cave where it can't be seen. He can switch when the dragon isn't looking, then it would be a simple matter of calling Heimdall to send another, larger team to subdue the beast.

The dragon can 'say' whatever it likes. In the end, he'll have what he wants one way or another.

The dragon grunts. Loki takes that as a sign that a decision has been made. It turns around, swinging its tail out in front of him to act as a wall. Loki, tall as he is, can't even reach the bottom of the plates. He tries moving more to the end of the tail where it narrows out, but the dragon just curls it around her work and snaps its mighty jaw at him.

When it's done, the dragon lumbers off to reveal the longest message yet.

HERE'S HOW IT'S GOING TO WORK: I WILL GIVE YOU WHAT YOU ASK AS MUCH AS I SEE FIT. I'M SURE AS HELL NOT GOING TO LET YOU CUT ME APART FOR SCIENCE IF THAT'S WHAT YOU'RE THINKING ABOUT. THREATEN ME AS MUCH AS YOU WANT; TELL ME HORROR STORIES ABOUT ALL THE KIDNAPPERS YOU'VE TORTURED TO DEATH UNTIL YOUR FACE TURNS BLUE, I DON'T CARE. IN THE LAST SIX MONTHS, I HAVE SURVIVED ATTACKS FROM THE US ARMY, THE NAVY, AND THE AIR FORCE JUST TO NAME A FEW. I HAVE BEEN SHOT AT, NEARLY BLOWN OUT OF THE SKY AND JUST A FEW HOURS AGO I TOOK ON YOU, YOUR BROTHER AND YOUR FRIENDS ALL AT ONCE AND WHAT DID I GET? ONE LITTLE SCRATCH THAT'S ALREADY MOSTLY HEALED. IF YOU REALLY THINK I'M SCARED OF YOU AFTER ALL THAT, YOU'VE GOT ANOTHER THING COMING, PAL.

Loki clicks his tongue.

"You drive a hard bargain."

The dragon lowers its head to his level. Loki can see a shadow of his reflection in its opaque eyes. He avoids both them and its mouth, open to reveal the white teeth beneath.

"Assuming I accept your terms," he says. "I'll need to know some information about you."

The dragon's one visible eye narrows.

"Nothing too intrusive, just your name, and your gender perhaps. I'm afraid your current appearance doesn't lend well to making it clear."

A low growl issues from its throat. It draws itself back to full height, requiring Loki to crane his neck all the way up.

"Are you a man?"

It kicks up some dirt with its back leg and Loki nods.

"A woman then. Do you have a name?"

The dragon goes silent, her ire seemingly calmed for the moment. She gets further into the cave, away from the sunlight so that he can no longer see her clearly. She sits with her tail around the junk she's accumulated, doing nothing but staring at it, and occasionally adjusting the top pieces when it looks like they're going to fall off. She never does anything to answer Loki's question.

"Oh come now, I can't just call you nothing."

The dragon looks at him now without animosity or even annoyance, it's more like loss. She shakes her head, smoke coming out in light puffs and likely not a conscious act like before.

"You're not going to tell me."

The dragon makes a sound like a sigh; it's more like an exceptionally soft grunt. Loki knows somehow that's all he'll get from her.

"Alright, I will accept that," he says. "You may keep your secrets. I am certainly not the one to preach openness and honesty. However, my original point still stands, I need to call you something."

Following a pause, in which she doesn't write anything in return, Loki speaks again.

"I suppose I'll have to create a name for you until you're ready to tell me," he pauses to rack his brain for something appropriate. "How about... Angrboda. Does that you?"

She gives a single grunt and nothing more. Loki right away takes that as a yes, and it has nothing to do with the fact that the last few days of tireless research and preparation for this expedition coupled with the supremely unprecedented results of it are finally taking their toll on him. Nothing at all.

He still yawns and stretches tired muscles loudly and with enough theatrics that she is forced to pay attention.

"Now, where will I be sleeping? I do hope there is a bed somewhere in that heap of yours."

The newly dubbed Angrboda makes a face that gives him a good idea of what she's thinking: that she is getting herself into far more than she ever wanted, allying herself with him.

Loki smiles to himself. She really has no idea.

* * *

Thor returns to Asgard alone, and everyone is talking about it.

They all know why he left, accompanied by not only his most trusted friends and fellow warriors, but also his treacherous brother, the disgraced second prince Loki. What the All-Father was thinking letting him out of his cell and into the endless stream of the universe with only his brother to keep him reigned in, no one could guess.

Now, it appears the Silvertongue has slipped off again. Thor surely does not tell any of the guards or his father's page why he is back so soon, and alone. He only demands an audience, and threatens to skin the man who dares stand in his way. The All-Father is NOT too busy to see him, not today.

Of the many who watch and wonder at their Prince's odd behavior, none are so curious as the group of women who have spent ages watching him from afar. They are five in total, well-known among the people for their beauty and their skill. They have studied their craft in the royal palace and it's surrounding city since they were girls. They have helped to defend Asgard from the shadows as many times as the warriors on the front line. They are the most powerful sorceresses Asgard has to offer, and the one thing that joins them together beyond their magic is their infalling loyalty and love for the Prince.

They meet every day in the library, whether or not there is something to discuss. Today is one of those quiet, slow days when they mostly read and make idle chit-chat. The topic is one they are all familiar with, and when he walks passed their eyes like a man on a mission, all noises cease and they singlemindedly watch him until he is out of sight. All but the one on the far left, who get to her feet and runs after him. She's the tallest of the bunch and arguably the most fair. She turns heads everywhere she goes, but she only has eyes for one.

"Prince Thor!" she calls out. "Prince Thor! Hello! How was your hunting trip?"

His reply is complete silence as he disappears around the corner, his footsteps fading after him. For a moment, she is slumped over, and then she composes herself. She goes back into the library with her head held high and the ornate hair piece that keeps her twin braids together slightly askew.

"A busy man, our prince," she says, blowing a stray lock of hair out of her face. "We must be mindful of this and take heed never to distract him."

The woman to the right of her, blonde headed and round faced, jots down a few words on a slip of parchment and doesn't look up when she speaks.

"I suppose chasing him all over the palace is an exception to that rule?"

The answering glare has the other three women turning their heads down to their work, none faster than the fragile looking woman who sits a seat away from the rest, her dark hair held in a braided crown that makes her whole head look too big for her body. She bends so low, she looks to be smelling the table, and she shivers like a delicate flower caught in a brutal wind.

"You speak like one who has never once looked upon his Highness with eyes of longing, Runa."

"You'll find the difference, my dear Svanhild," says Runa. "Is that I know the art of subtlety, whereas you will trip over your feet just so he will look your way."

Svanhild turns red, but for now she says no more. She tries to go back to her book, reads three pages and then drops it.

"I will say that I didn't believe our prince would return so soon." The declaration gets everyone's attention, even Runa, who realizes how unlikely she is to get anything done now that Svanhild is on a roll, and puts her work aside.

"It is strange," says the sorceress across from her, a brown haired and beady eyed woman named Øydis. "I hadn't thought a creature such as a dragon would be so quick to slay."

"Assuming it is truly a dragon," counters Jannike, a pale and thin woman who sits beside Øydis. "Personally, I've harbored doubts since the Gatekeeper first gave word."

"I don't see why he would lie about such a thing," Runa says.

"I agree," pipes up the fifth sorceress. She seems shocked that she's even spoke at all, but it's too late to shy away now that all eyes are on her. "I- I just mean that he sees far more than we do."

"Oh, hush, Mette," Svanhild snaps at her.

Mette blanches before her elder scrutinizing her. She squeaks an apology, satisfying Svanhild.

"I think what baffles me most about the whole thing is our prince's unwavering pledge to kill the beast," she huffs. "All in the name of one mortal?"

The others either laugh with her or shake their heads in disgust. They are not ones to keep secrets from each other, no matter how much they put on airs for everyone else. Never once did the five of them keep their mutual disdain for one Jane Foster under wraps. Together, they had spent many a night mocking the absurdity of a weak mortal wench capturing the attention of their prince.

"All I can say is such a death was merciful for the little thing," says Runa. "If it had been by my own hand, she might not have had it so quick."

"Runa," gasps Jannike. "What a thing to say! A mortal is hardly worthy of such venom. You would waste your energy in those pursuits."

"If she hadn't died by the claws of the monster, she would have withered away like the mayflies," says Øydis.

"Hardly a suitable wife for a prince," says Mette as softly as she can.

"Prince!" Svanhild balks. "A stablehand would be too good for the likes of her!"

The women fall into hysterics until they can laugh no longer. When they return to their previous activities, it is without another thought to spare for their beloved prince's passing fancy, while unbeknownst to the rest, one of them hides a secret smile behind a facade of ignorance.

* * *

Thor bursts into the King and Queen's private chambers. He is unconcerned with the maids he's startled as they braid his mother's hair. She and his father are as calm as if they've expecting him. The maids are dismissed with a wave of his father's hand.

"My son," Odin says, his voice crackling like sandpaper. "You are back so soon."

"Loki has been taken," Thor says.

It doesn't escape him the way his mother's fist clenches, and his father doesn't react at all. The fires in Thor's chest burn.

"Will you say nothing?" He charges forward, pointing Mjolnir at his father without fully knowing what he's doing. "Your son is to be a meal for a monster, and yet you just sit there like it means nothing to you! You would sit before my eyes and speak not a word! Have you no shame?!"

"Do not presume to know what I feel, boy!" Odin shouts, getting to his feet.

Frigga reaches for him, concern written across her face, but Odin is long gone from her side. He wraps his hand around Thor's, like he plans to pull Mjolnir from his grasp. It's unnecessary, because Thor already wants to bow his head and apologize. It's only his lingering feelings of rage and inadequacy that keep him standing and prevent any show of fealty, even before the All-Father. It leaves him only with shame that cannot be overcome. He wants to beg forgiveness from his parents for a whole other reason.

"Loki is gone." Tears well up in his eyes. "The dragon took him. I couldn't stop it... I couldn't save him... and now, he's..."

"Oh, Thor," Frigga says. She comes over and rests a hand on Thor's cheek, drying his eyes, while her own go untreated. Thor feels his heart break all over again. His father is bad enough, he cannot face his mother like this.

"Please, forgive my weakness," he says, leaning gratefully into her hands. "I was a fool. I should have listened to him. He told me rushing in was the wrong course of action, but I was just so determined to spill the beast's blood... and now he's gone, and he could already be dead."

"Do not think that way," Frigga snaps. Odin gives her a look Thor can't decipher, but she pays him no mind, even as he hisses something close to her ear.

"How can I not?" Thor asks. "It was my mission. I was the leader, it was my responsibility to see everyone home safely, and I let them all down. I let Loki down!"

With a scream he sinks a fist into the wall, leaving behind a deep hand-shaped crater. His knuckles ache, but that is nothing compared to the pain inside.

"You banished me to teach me a lesson," he says miserably to Odin. "I thought I knew what that was, but I fear I haven't grown in the slightest. I am still the pig-headed boy you sent away that day, and now Loki will suffer for my arrogance."

Odin approaches him. Thor expects now he will feel the weight of the All-Father's wrath, and he will readily accept his punishment. Odin's eyes, however, are without a trace of iciness and instead, boundless warmth.

"The fact that you know your errors, and you wish to make amends," he says. "Shows that you_ have_ grown, my son, more than you know."

Frigga stands beside him now, the ageless couple sharing a long, silent moment that Thor cannot gauge.

"However, you should not for a moment believe that what happened to Loki is your fault," he says. "Nor should you believe that he is dead."

Thor's heart swells for a moment at the thought, but his bitterness is too all-encompassing and he just can't believe it.

"How can I not?" he asks.

Frigga takes a deep breath then, and Odin's hand wrapped in hers tightens.

"Thor," she says like she's about to break down. "My son, you must understand... I _knew_ that it would come to this."

But Thor _doesn't_ understand, not completely. He hears his mother's words and he sees her pleading eyes that burn despite the wear and tear of eternal life. It both makes sense to him and is complete gibberish.

"Mother," he says, barely above a whisper. "What are you saying?"

She shakes her head and finally wipes the tears from her eyes. "Son, you know of my visions. They come and they go, and last night, I had another. I foresaw that something would happen to Loki on this mission."

"You knew he would be taken?"

"No, not specifically that," Frigga says. "The vision was vague. I only saw that he would not return with you from this mission. I had suspected a capture would be the reason, though I hoped and prayed it wouldn't be so."

"And you let him go regardless?" Thor asks. His inner fire is roaring again. He could never truly be angry with his mother, but...

"The vision did not end there, Thor!" Frigga begins to sound desperate. "At the end of it, I saw Loki again. He was alive and well, Thor, but more than that, he was _happy_. Happier than I have ever seen him before, but I could not see why. I just knew that it was destiny at work. Whatever happens next, something or someone is going to reawaken Loki's heart."

She cries anew now, a broken smile painting her features and slamming an invisible fist into Thor's gut.

"You have every right to be angry with me," she says. "It was I who convinced your father to allow Loki to travel with you. Can you fault a mother who only wants to see her child smile again?"

Thor can no longer stand to hear it, but where he wants to simply shove Frigga away and leave, he clings to her. He feels like a child again, the one time he lost track of Loki during a trek across the forest and thought him dead. That time, Loki had found his way back to the palace on his own. While all the guards and Odin himself tore the woods apart to find him, Loki sat in his room with a book and that's where Frigga found him at the end of the night, fast asleep.

It could not be so this time, even if his mother's vision was true. He tells himself that she has never been wrong before. All of her successful predictions come to mind, reminding him that if she says it to be true, it will be.

Loki is alive. Loki is unharmed. Loki will return to them his old self again.

It's such a beautiful thought. If only his belief in it were as strong as his guilt.

"I would refrain from interrupting," Odin says, coming forward. "But where are Sif and the Warrior's Three? They did not return with you?"

"I told them to stay on Midgard and begin the search for Loki," Thor explains. "I was to join them when I finished here."

Odin nods. "Perhaps you will call them back now."

Thor looks away, holding his mother tighter to him while she silently cries into his shoulder.

"Perhaps I will," he says.

He won't.


	6. Chapter 4

For the past month and a half, Darcy Lewis has been spending a lot of time at the coffee shop down the street. It's the only one of it's kind for miles, save the Starbucks two streets up, but Darcy always hated Starbucks. Not that this place is much better; the coffee is kind of crappy and ninety five percent of the staff and regular patrons are the same kind of insufferable hipsters that everyone always said was just a stereotype. She goes for two reasons. The first is that Saturdays are the only free time she has anymore now that the new semester has started up. The other is that this is the only place she can go where nobody bothers her with sympathy and worthless condolences and, worst of all, questions.

"Hey Darcy, I'm so sorry about your friend. Why don't you sit down and vent your heart out to me? Oh don't be silly, you know who I am! We were in Intro to Law together back in freshman year! Or was it Advanced Economics in junior year...?"

"Oh Darcy, I heard your friend got eaten by a dragon. I'm so so sor-HAHAHAHA I- I'm sorry, I just never thought I'd have to say something like THAT and really mean it, you know?"

"Darcy! Darcy, I was just wondering if you'd like to join the Paranormal Investigation club we've got going on! You know, since you have actual experience dealing with supernatural creatures."

"Hey Lewis, was there a lot of blood everywhere or was the dragon at least clean?"

"Please tell me every single thing that happened that night, Darcy. In as much excruciatingly painful detail as you can."

Yeah, that's getting old.

She sits next to the cash register as always, chatting with Alfred the cashier. He often seems like the only respectful person for miles around. Fortunately for Darcy, he's very cute, with his windswept blonde hair, warm brown eyes and boyish features, not to mention perfectly lined white teeth that he loves to put on full display wherever possible. Unfortunately for Darcy, he's also very taken, as the gold band on his ring finger tells her. Doesn't she have all the luck?

"You look tired," Alfred observes.

Darcy breaks from her very important ritual of watching the steam lift from her mug to look up.

"I'm in college, I'm always tired."

"More tired than usual then," he amends.

Darcy rubs her eyes. "It's nothing. I got ambushed by that stupid paranormal club again. This time, they tried offering me the vice-president position, as if_ that's_ what I've wanted from them all this time. What is wrong with people that they don't understand what 'No' means?"

"Hello hello!" an overly loud voice rings out as it's owner bursts through double doors. Darcy lowers her head, muttering to herself.

"Speaking of..."

The newcomer skips over, nonchalantly pushing Alfred aside so there was nothing blocking him from Darcy.

"I hope someone is enjoying the speciality coffee blend I made for them."

Darcy stays still so she can mockingly mouth his words without being seen and go through some mental prep work before having to look at Franklin's noxious grin.

"Yeah, it's great," she says, forcibly polite.

"Oh, I know," he says. "It's just nice to hear you say it."

He laughs like he's said something funny while Alfred rolls his eyes out of view and mimics Franklin's overplayed hand gestures for Darcy's amusement. She can always count on him to lighten the mood, especially where Franklin is concerned. He's somehow always the one on staff whenever Darcy comes in. She's tried every time frame beyond three a.m. to avoid him with no luck. She's starting to think that either him and the coffee shop are the same entity or the whole place was just built around him. She wouldn't be surprised. He wasn't even that bad looking, though Alfred was definitely hotter. Attitude means a lot to Darcy in terms of attraction; you could be covered in zits and fifty pounds overweight, but if you knew how to walk the walk and talk the talk, she would be there.

The only thing Franklin knows how to do is irritate her to no end every single week when he spends ten minutes trying to convince her to try his 'Ultra Special Java Choco Orange Mocha Frapacchino' or whatever it's called while kinda-sorta-not quite-definitely staring at her tits.

As if she didn't have enough problems.

"I would be happy to give you the recipe over dinner," he says. "Then you can make it whenever you like and think of me. How's next Friday sound?"

Darcy presses her lips together, making a real show of thinking it over while he waits like he's so sure of what her answer will be.

"Gee, that sounds _really_ great, Franklin," Darcy smiles. "But I'm afraid I'm going to be busy next Friday. How about a raincheck? Does the 31st work for you?"

Franklin frowns. "But it's November."

"Is it?" Darcy feigns shock. "Oh darn. Wow, that sucks. Oh well."

She turns away, making it clear that the conversation is over. Franklin stumbles over his words trying to work out what just happened, then finally gives up when someone across the bar shouts for another drink. He runs to serve them, and Darcy breathes a sigh of relief.

"I absolutely cannot stand him," she says.

"Pft- Try working with him," says Alfred. "Believe me, you don't know the half of it."

Darcy sips on her coffee and makes a face at the bitter taste. Alfred helpfully presses two pink packets into her hand.

"Sugar," he says.

"There's not enough sugar in the world, but thanks," she says and takes them anyway.

She mostly doesn't bother with it after that. Alfred has to go and ring up a few more customers, leaving Darcy to do some people watching. The hipsters are out and about full force tonight. Some of them sit alone in the corner with their headphones on, probably so no one else can hear the music they think belongs to them. The more social ones laugh and trade stories, not always in English. This one Michael Cera-looking kid is giving her the eye and Darcy almost gives him the finger, before deciding it's not worth the trouble. She swivels back around, thankful to see that Franklin has crawled back into his hole for the night.

"How are your classes going?" Alfred asks with an upbeat smile. "Still dominating everyone in debate club?"

"Like clockwork," Darcy says, almost with some cheer of her own.

Alfred raises his fist. Darcy bumps it half-heartedly, then shrugs.

"They keep putting me up against the really stupid kids. The last guy I debated? He didn't even know the main causes of the Recession or who the Secretary of Labor is. Plus, he had halitosis _real bad_."

"Yeesh."

"You're telling me."

Alfred looks out at the crowd, making sure that everyone has been helped, no one needs a refill, and no one is hovering outside the door with a cigarette. He leans on his elbows to meet her eyes.

"Back in my freshman year of High School, I took World History first period, and there was this one kid who sat right behind me during the first semester, and he was always sleeping during class. I don't mean like every now and then. Literally _every single day_ he was sitting there with his head on the desk, snoring away."

Darcy raises an eyebrow. "And the teacher did nothing about this because...?"

"I'm getting to that. Anyway, one day, right around Thanksgiving Break, we were getting our latest test scores back, and the way it was supposed to work was that the teacher would hand all the tests for one row to the first person, who would take his and pass the rest back. This time, he gets to our row and he only hands the first guy his test. He walks all the rest of them to us until he gets to this guy. I knew something was up right away and so did the rest of the class, because everyone was dead quiet... and then the teacher pulled out an air horn with a big red letter F painted on one side and blew it in the guy's ear."

Darcy's jaw drops to the bar. "You're kidding."

"Nope," Alfred says, shaking his head. "You should have seen it. That kid jumped so high, I think his head touched the ceiling."

"How did the teacher get away with that?" Darcy cries while trying not to laugh too hard.

"He had tenure," Alfred says with a grin. "Plus, what's this kid going to tell his parents? That he's been sleeping through class for ninety days straight?"

They laugh together for a while longer, until the need for air outweighs the hilarity.

"Good story," Darcy says. "What made you think of it?"

He gives her a particularly warm look. "Honestly? I just thought it'd be nice to see you smile, Darcy."

Her heart speeds up a little, and oh _god_ he's just so damn sweet and handsome right now, it's killing her. Why hasn't she made a move again?

"And that story always gives my wife a good laugh, so I figured you'd like it too. You guys have a pretty similar sense of humor. Someday, I'll have to introduce you."

...oh right, that.

Darcy picks up her mug, brings it to her lips, and then remembers who made it and sets it down again. The liquid swishes and little droplets fall to the counter. Darcy wipes it away with her napkin and crumples it into a ball, which she throws over Alfred's shoulder into the garbage can next to the kitchen doors. It lands right in the center and Alfred whistles.

"Nice shot."

"Yup," Darcy says with pride. "That's all skill right there. Skill and practice."

He takes the mug from her and drains it in the sink. While he's gone, Darcy pulls a five from her pocket and drops it in his tip jar. She gets to her feet, securing her shoulder bag so that the strings don't bite into her skin too hard.

"I think I'll head home," she says. "Early morning classes tomorrow."

Alfred winces sympathetically. "Just be careful out there. It's getting dark."

"Relax, I've got my taser," she lifts her arm to reveal the special front pocket where it is kept. "Fully charged and ready to go, so don't underestimate me."

"I wouldn't dream of it," he says. "Your taser wielding badassery is undeniable."

"You'd better believe it."

She leaves the coffee shop in decidedly better spirits than she came. Alfred always knows exactly what to say and it was a real shame he only worked every other day. Next week, it would be Annie behind the register. She's a 30 something, bony blonde woman who is nice enough, but dreadfully boring to talk to. She only cares about her favorite band's new album that they'd apparently been working on for the last fifteen years. Four weekends of listening to elaborate accounts of their history and musical style and Darcy still doesn't even know their name.

She wonders if it would be inappropriate to ask for a married man's phone number. She could use someone to talk to on the weekdays when things got too stressful and two weeks seemed a million years away. At least for now she could breathe easy and forget about That-Incident-That-Must-Not-Be-Named. If it could just last her til morning, maybe she'd even have a peaceful night's sleep and not wake up screaming, drenched in sweat and checking her hands for bloodstains.

She's almost to her dorm, taking the shortcut through the alleyway between the Chinese restuarant and the old TV shop with the twenty television sets of varying sizes that nonetheless all show the same grainy footage of a dark purple mass in the sky.

"The most recent dragon sightings in Nevada has risen speculation of where it will be sighted next. So far Colorado is the only other state to have frequent sightings, with singular accounts in South Dakota and Illinois. Some have suggested that the dragon is currently preparing for the winter months. This theory runs under the assumption that the dragon is cold-blooded, as many herpetologists suspect, including the best-selling author..."

Darcy walks faster, shutting the chipper voice out. They'll be going on like this non-stop until it's time for infomercials.

You'd think, after all this time, they'd have something new to report on.

* * *

She's a heavy sleeper, this dragon.

Loki awoke that morning with the sun, rising from the bed he'd created out of a ragged set of sheets pulled from the bottom of the pile. His sleep had been dreamless, and relatively peaceful. He was momentarily surprised when he opened his eyes to a cavern ceiling covered in stalactites, but then it all came back to him. Angrboda snored softly from her spot in front of the entryway. Patches of sunlight break through the bulk of her body, outlining her top half.

Once he's rubbed the sleep from his eyes, Loki gets to work. He starts at her head and works his way down to the tip of her tail. His fingers trace her scaly skin, testing for looseness. Her scales are slimy and soft, but surprisingly warm, much too warm for a reptilian creature. A human being would be warmer still, but as he traces each identical curvature and line, those faded messages stick out in the back of his mind.

He finds several scales that come off easily. It leaves behind a slimy residue that curdles when the air touches it and gives off a peculiar odor. A weaker man than him might've retched. He reaches the end and starts back up on the other side. Her claws are uncovered, sharp and solid black and digging into the rock. He doubts she would allow even the smallest one to be removed. Perhaps a tip would be good enough, or even just shavings, much as he'd prefer something whole. He'd have to make similar provisions for the teeth.

Loki makes it to her head, though he has more than enough scales now for testing. Her mouth is closed but her lips are parted, white peeking out over darkness. Her eye slides open and meets his, pupils dilating as he smiles and bows his head.

"Good morning!"

Angrboda draws herself to full height. She is staring down at him, but her eyes are on his hand rather than himself. She grunts at him and jerks her head at the cave, but Loki is already walking back inside and rolling his eyes at her. If she thinks this is his idea of an escape attempt, she's never going to survive him.

She storms after him, back towards the thick patch of sand best used for writing.

WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?

Loki looks dully at the message while swinging the basket full of her scales back and forth. He uses light motions, so that nothing falls out.

"Did we not speak about this yesterday? You agreed to letting me take what I need, and so I did."

BUT WHILE I'M SLEEPING?!

"You just looked so peaceful, Angrboda," he says innocently, with a smile that is anything but. "I didn't have the heart to wake you."

She doesn't write another message, just slams her fist into the sand next to him.

"Tsk tsk, that's quite a temper you have. Whatever happened to working things out like adults?"

I SHOULD JUST SWALLOW YOU.

"What do you eat anyway?"

The smoke cloud she snorts in his face in response is thick enough to clog his lungs and send him into a coughing fit, which apparently satisfies her.

She stomps back into the cave towards her treasure trove, wrapping her long form around it like a mother protecting her young. When he comes close, she growls at him and releases more smoke, then goes back to working on her tower. There's a stack of books at the very top that she is trying to even out. In spite of her best efforts, a few of them fall off. They land at Loki's feet with the pages down in the dirt. He walks around them without bothering to read the titles, and he suspects that touching them will only result in another attempt to asphyxiate him.

That was a common factor of the old stories, this hoarding habit of hers. It's the only dragon trait he can confirm accurate, at least so far.

After a while, Angrboda detangles herself from the pile.

I'M HEADING OUT FOR A WHILE.

She has to grunt to get his attention, as Loki has been setting himself up a workplace while she ogled at her treasures. His dimensional pocket contains almost everything he needs, from ink and parchment to his favorite old cauldron. He doesn't bother to acknowledge her until he's finishes, and can hear her huffing and puffing right behind him.

"Is that right?" is his reply when he finally reads her message. "Will you be gone long?"

She hesitates to answer.

I DON'T REALLY KNOW. TELLING TIME ISN'T SO EASY FOR ME ANYMORE.

"You should learn to navigate by the sun," he comments.

THAT WAS NEVER MY MAJOR FIELD OF EXPERTISE.

"And what was?"

She doesn't answer. Loki sighs audibly, but leaves it there and goes back to writing notes. He stops only when she slaps her tail in front of his desk.

I'LL DEFINITELY BE BACK BEFORE NIGHTFALL. IN THE MEANTIME, DON'T TRY ANYTHING.

Loki smirks, and inwardly dissolves into full blown laughter. This she-beast is even bolder than he thought.

"You must be exercising a massive amount of trust to leave me alone for even a short amount of time."

YOU THINK?

"What makes you so certain I will be here when you get back? Or that I will be alone and not have brought forth the entire army of Asgard to slay you for your crimes against the royal family?"

I'M NOT CERTAIN ABOUT ANYTHING, EXCEPT THAT YOU'D SOONER KILL ME YOURSELF THAN LET SOMEONE ELSE DO IT.

Loki nods. "Then we have an understanding."

She narrows her yellow eyes at him, a final warning before she takes off and flies towards the sun.

* * *

It never really occurred to Fandral how much Midgard has changed. Everything is bigger, from their dwellings to their bodies in many cases. Even the ways in which things are the same really aren't, as Hogun was quick to point out early on.

"They are afraid of us," he'd said, and Fandral had laughed and clapped his friend on the shoulder, but knew deep down that he was right.

The looks they got as they passed were no longer awestruck or worshipful, but more confused, suspicious, some even jeering. Two young men wearing badly damaged beeches and covered in tribal ink point at them and sneer something about 'fucking LARPers.' They stop when Sif sends them a chilling glare that almost makes Fandral feel sorry for them. He knows what it's like to be in the wrong end of Sif's bad side.

The four of them have been walking through town after town for days, ever since Thor charged them with hunting down the dragon and saving Loki. How enthusiastic they may be on the latter is so far undiscussed, which is for the best. The narrow walkways and large number of mortals necessitates moving one after another. Sif is currently in the lead with Fandral right behind her.

The sun is setting on another day, Monday according to the shifty eyed mortal they asked earlier. Night will soon fall and they will be free to leave for the next location. They have already searched the deserts high and low, but the dragon has either moved on or is better at hiding than they thought. Fandral just wishes Thor would hurry up and get back.

"What do you think is keeping him?" he asks after a time.

"You don't think something has happened, do you?"

"I doubt it, Volstagg" Sif cuts in. "Heimdall would have called us back by now. We must assume that something else is keeping him."

"Then how are we supposed to find this thing?" Hogun grumbles. "None of the midgardians here have seen it with their own eyes."

"No, but this is the general area where the dragon usually appears," says Sif. "We have a better chance at finding it if we stay close."

"Perhaps we should search the mountains again," Fandral suggests. "Couldn't hurt."

They stop at the edge of the street, watching carefully the long silver pole on the other side and the rectangular box attached to it. They had learned it's purpose the day before, when one of the Midgardian's moving vehicles had almost struck them, and the person riding inside had screamed at them while gesturing violently at the orange hand inside the box. They watch now for orange hand to transform into the white man who allows them safe passage. A small crowd forms around them, most of whom either gawk or avert their eyes.

"Mommy, why are the people dressed like that?" a little boy asks while tugging at his mother's coat and pointing at them.

"Don't pay any attention to them, sweetie," she answers as she pulls him closer to her side.

The white man makes his appearance and they get across the street without issue. In the meantime, Fandral keeps busy watching the mortals on their way to uncertain destinations. Some of them kept to themselves, others travel like them, in groups. Nothing and no one jumps out at him until a pretty young woman with curly brown hair beneath a wool cap walks into his line of sight. She is moving much faster than the rest. A young man is hot on her trail and calling after her. She neither slows down nor answers him, and when she is close enough, Fandral knows immediately where he's seen her before.

* * *

Darcy's starting to think there is some kind of all powerful entity up there that really hates her. It couldn't be Thor because he's too nice. Maybe it's his dad, or maybe it's some other ancient culture's god that's decided to get in on the whole 'mess around with the puny mortals' game and is starting with her. Maybe it's the Judeo-Christian God she grew up with and he's angry with her because she hasn't been to synagogue in five years.

"Hey, Darcy! Darcy, hey!"

Whichever it is, this is cruel and unusual punishment personified.

"Leave me alone, Franklin," she shouts at him and picks up the pace. So does he, of course.

"But I just want us to sit and talk for awhile. It doesn't have to be over dinner. How about lunch?"

"How about nothing?" Darcy shoots back.

She's closing in on the curb where a large crowd of pedestrians have gathered, waiting to cross. If she can just get through them and around the corner, she can lose him. If not...

She steps into the crowd and in an instant, an enormously fat woman in a polka dot dress shifts her massive behind to one side and Darcy nearly runs into it. Forced to stop, it isn't long before Franklin has caught up and his hand wraps around her upper arm to hold her in place. Darcy tenses up, silently going through the long list of impolite words her dead Jewish grandmother loved to use. The only consolation is how out of breath Franklin sounds. She put up a good fight to the end.

"Okay, maybe we started off on the wrong foot," Franklin says. "I'm sorry I bothered you when you were studying earlier. I was just surprised to see you and I have these gift cards to the Olive Garden, so I knew I had to ask you. If you don't like Italian, we could-"

Darcy barks a laugh. "I really hope you don't think this is about food."

Franklin blinks. "So you _do_ like Italian?"

Darcy glances aside at the brick building. How many times would she have to smack her head against it to render herself unconscious? For that matter how many times has this guy gotten_ his_ head smacked against something to make him this clueless?

Wrenching herself away, she turns to face him. The crowd is thinning out around them, and there is a head of blonde hair in the corner of her vision that she's ignoring for now.

"Let me make this perfectly clear," she says slowly. "My opinion of Italian food is of no consequence here. Whether I like it or not, what I don't like is _you_. Now, run along. Don't you have some delicious coffees to not make?"

"Yes- I mean no- I mean- hang on," Franklin stop to think and Darcy takes the opportunity to make a run for it. She doesn't get very far. "Wait! If you're thinking about coffee, how about we go back to the shop and I make you some? Come on, Darcy-AH!"

There's a loud thud like a body against concrete, followed by the 'schwing' of metal on metal. When Darcy looks, there is a man in old time-y armor holding Franklin a foot above the ground by his collar. His other hand holds a sword, squeezing around the hit in a way that makes it hard for Darcy not to notice how muscular he is, and how familiar.

"Excuse me, young sir," he says jovially, in perfect contrast to what he's doing. "I believe the lady has made it clear that she has no desire for your company. Don't you think it wise to respect her wishes and acquiesce?"

Franklin sweats bullets, unable to look away from the sword. It isn't anywhere near him, but the mere sight of it is more than enough.

"Y-y-yes, of c-course," he stammers, then looks at Darcy. "I am very sorry I bothered you Darcy, I will never do it again."

Satisfied with this, Darcy's would-be savior drops him to the ground and Franklin takes off down the street like all the hounds of hell are on his tail. Fandral replaces his sword with a charming smile Darcy's way.

"I hope you haven't been harmed, Lady Darcy," he says. "That is your name, yes? Forgive me if I am in err."

Darcy's mouth opens, but she's having trouble forming words. She sees three more people standing behind him, all in equally crazy outfits with equally deadly weapons on their persons.

"Uh... yeah, I'm Darcy," she answers after a while. "And you're Fandral, right?"

"At your service," he says, bowing low. Darcy doesn't know if she should just stand there or bow back, and then he straightens up and takes her hand and kisses it. She should've just bowed.

"Fandral, stop flirting with every woman you see," says the lone woman of the bunch, Sif if Darcy remembers correctly.

"I have done no such thing," Fandral answers, seeming more good humored than affronted. "In case you did not witness, I have just rescued this fine young woman from an attacker!"

Darcy clears her throat and gives a little wave. "Uh, yeah, I wasn't really being attacked. Not that I'm not really grateful that you got him off my back, but Franklin's way more stupid and annoying than he is dangerous, so..."

They all look at her with stares just a little too intense for her liking. Fandral is the most at ease of the four, and even he keeps his hand worryingly close to his sword. Darcy falls silent as a wide range of questions fill her mind, most of them center on the same subject, so she starts with the simplest one.

"What are you guys doing here?"

The largest one steps up. "We come on a mission of great importance, Lady Darcy. To slay the beast that has terrorized your realm and taken one of our own prisoner."

"As soldiers of Asgard, we seek retribution on his behalf," Sif continues. "And if he is still alive, all the better."

Darcy nods absently. She stopped listening closely after the whole 'slay the beast' bit. She mentally rolled her eyes at yet another mention of that goddamn monster everyone is so obsessed with, and then her inner rationale gave her a slap over the head and reminded her what the word 'slay' means.

"Wait, you're going to kill the dragon?"

A couple of people passing by stop and stare at her, shaking their heads until they see who she's talking to. Then they run.

"That is what we just said, is it not?" asks the Asian-looking one on the far left. What is his name again? He doesn't talk much.

"Hogun is correct," says the larger one (Volstagg?) and Darcy silently thanks him. "I believe we've made ourselves quite clear."

"Yeah yeah, I get that," Darcy says. "I'm just trying to get everything straight. The dragon took... wait-"

She stops to count them up again. Fandral, Sif, Hogun, Volstag...

"Are you saying it took THOR?" She outright shouts it this time, earning more stares and nervous chuckles and other unwanted things that she's been getting enough of, so maybe it's time they took this someplace else.

Before she can suggest this, Volstagg laughs. "Oh no, don't be silly. No beast alive could make a prize of Thor! Those who would try are now trophies on his wall."

"We are searching for Thor's brother, Loki. _He_ was taken," says Sif.

Darcy's mouth forms a silent 'oh'. "Right, Loki, the crazy fighting killer robot guy."

They all share glances, trying to work out what she just said. Then Fandral clasps his hands together and raises them over his head.

"Well, we must be off if we're going to continue our search for the beast," he says.

"First we should search for a place to sleep," Volstagg says, shoulders sagging. "It's been three days at least."

"It will be quieter once we are out of this city," says Sif.

They start to turn away, only Fandral pausing to smile and nod goodbye to Darcy. She watches them go for all of two seconds.

"Wait!" She runs after them, squeezing between Hogun and Volstagg to get in front of them again. "If you guys need a place to sleep, my roommate's out for the rest of the week, and I have a pretty big dorm room. You guys can stay the night if you want."

The words sound really weird coming out of Darcy's mouth. Under normal circumstances, she would have politely excused herself a long time ago because these guys look ridiculous and everyone knows it, and if she acts like she's associated with them, someone from school is bound to see her, and then...

"Hey Darcy, who were those guys in the weird medieval getups you were hanging out with?"

"Those guys look like they're ready to start a jousting tournament or something. You getting in on that, Darcy?"

"This dragon thing must really be getting to you if you're making friends with crazy people now, Darcy."

Darcy lets out a breath. She can't banish the thoughts, so she just lets them stay. When has her life been normal anyway? Not since the god of thunder crash landed on earth and she tasered him. So why start now?

She runs her finger across the bulge in her purse, where said taser rests in wait.

"Are you certain you would be willing to entertain us?" Sif asks. She drags up a thumb and points at her companions. "These three get extremely raucous."

"Don't be absurd, Sif," Fandral cries. "That sort of behavior we reserve for celebrations at the tavern. We would never think to act so borish in the presence of a lady, especially one opening her home to us."

He takes Darcy's hand again, but he doesn't kiss it. She can't help but notice how rough his skin is, and how strong his grip. He must work with his hands a lot.

"We would be honored to accept your hospitality, Lady Darcy," he says, a wide grin on his handsome face. "We cannot thank you enough."

His friends all nod, and it draws Darcy away from that train of thought, which is good because her mind was going to certain inappropriate places.

They walk the rest of the way to her dorm. It's late, but not too late, so the number of nosy and gossiping students running around should be to a minimum. Her dorm advisor is the least responsible person in the world, always too busy watching Soap Operas to pay attention when a girl brings a guy into her room to spend the night (let alone three guys and a girl), so she doesn't have to worry about her either. Yes, she should be just fine.

"If I may, Lady Darcy," says Sif. "Why are you so willing to take us in, even for just the night?"

That's a good question. A really good question. It would be nice if Darcy had a good answer to it.

"I guess I'm just feeling generous tonight," she says lamely, and just when she's beginning to feel awkward, something better comes to her. "That, and I'd like to hear about you guys hunting down the dragon. At the risk of sounding bloodthirsty, I've been waiting to hear that it's been taken out."

"Not at all, Lady Darcy!" Fandral randomly appears at her other side. "We will gladly tell you everything about our quest! We have not forgotten how the beast has taken the life of your dear Jane Foster."

Darcy averts her eyes, but only for a moment. It's not good for her to avoid the subject like this, she should know.

"Let me promise you right now that we will defeat this monster and take vengeance for the lives it has stolen."

Darcy smiles at him and holds out her hand. "I'm holding you to that."

He doesn't take her hand, just stares at it like he's wondering if she's literally offering to give him her hand. Darcy eventually takes his hand herself.

"You shake it," she says and demonstrates. "It's how we say... a lot of things actually, but right now it means you're making a promise."

Something in Fandral's eyes lights up and he shakes a little too enthusiastically as Darcy fees like her arm is being worked out of it's socket.

"Then I will make you this promise, Lady Darcy!" he proudly exclaims.

"Thanks," she says, rubbing her aching shoulder.

"And when the beast is slain, I will bring to you one of it's claws as a trophy to hang on your mantle."

"That's... sweet of you, Fandral."

She hopes she doesn't regret this.

* * *

Angrboda has been gone for hours.

Loki hasn't thought much about what she does when not here in her hideaway. If he tries, he can't think of anything besides collecting more trinkets and terrorizing the general public with her presence. He may take a moment to wonder how much she knows about the stir she's causing all across the nine realms. He should ask her when she comes back, and then tell her in exact detail just how much when she doesn't.

He has exhausted his supply of scales in his experimenting. He could've stopped with just under half of them left, but if there's one thing that his mother and father and teachers drilled in his head as a boy, it's the importance of always checking and re-checking everything. If he could, he would have redone every one of his tests ten times, not that it's necessary. He trusts his first instincts and he doesn't second guess himself, and he knows that despite that rule being iron-clad, the first results are always the right ones. In all his centuries of life, that has never changed.

He wasn't hard-pressed to find magic on Angrboda's scales, it was laced in every cell and molecule. The stories were true: a dragon is a purely magical being not of any known world, and for Angrboda, it was because magic had created her.

A transformation spell of this caliber is both impressively strong and laughably obvious. It has a signature that he knows, but can't place, and is very much Asgardian. The pieces are easy to put together from there. Clearly, there were cracks in the rainbow bridge's structure that even he didn't know about, and some eager young mage decided to take a joyride to Midgard and ruin a random woman's life for their own purposes. That's how it might look to a third party, but Loki knows better.

Thanks to Heimdall, he knows everything about Angrboda's introduction to the world, located in none other than the quaint little village Thor was banished to, where he met Jane Foster and learned to be a better man, as everyone just loves to remind him.

And that's how Loki knows that Angrboda is _not_ just a random woman at all.

He also knows that where the stories of the dragons are true, they are also very false. Simply being _made_ from magic does not equate to much potential for new magic. His new friend has just become useless to him, except maybe to provide him a fleeting amusement.

Loki hears her returning now. She's just a speck flying away from the moon, but soon she will be before him, tall and (in her mind) imposing, and she'll want answers. He calmly puts everything away, using a quick fire to burn away the empty bag as it starts to smell, and goes to wait for her by the edge of the cavern.

Let's see how long she stays entertaining.

* * *

**A/N: Looks like Jane is running into some trouble, and we've finally gotten Darcy into the picture! How will the rest of her night go, and were will it lead?**

**Find out next time! **


	7. Interlude 2

This is Action News at 11.

"Good evening, everyone, this is Kent Tucker and we have a very special treat for you here tonight on DragonWatch. A live debate between some of the greatest scientific minds on the dragon and how we, as a nation, should be responding to it. We now go live to our correspondent out in the field, Marjorie Wickerman. Marjorie?"

"Thanks Kent, as you can see behind me, the participants are currently taking a ten minute recess before proceeding into the second half of the discussion. There have already been some interesting developments tonight. Just a few minutes ago it looked like we were going to have a full on brawl between noted herpetologist Sofia Leone and cryptozoologist Royce Coroman, regarding disagreements over the dragon's origins. It had been originally postulated by Dr. Leone that the dragon was in fact, not really a dragon, but something more to the effect of a mutation, or even an as of yet undiscovered primordial species that has been dormant for thousands of years. Dr. Coroman countered by citing a lack of evidence on her part, and years of research into the subject on his. He believes that there is no question about this being an actual dragon and that trying to come up with alternate explanations is only wasting time that could be spent capturing the creature for study.

In a bizarre twist, Dr. Leone was further refuted by fellow herpetologists, Dr. Bianca Swartz and Dr. Arnold Mulligan, both of whom have several times expressed staunch disagreement with Dr. Coroman, his theories, and his practice as a whole. Today, they put their backing behind Dr. Coroman, if only because their own research has provided nothing substantial by way of standard scientific reasoning."

"Very interesting, Marjorie, and I believe there was talk of some of the dragon's scales being found out in the desert?"

"Yes, several days ago a group of dragon enthusiasts wandered into the Mojave desert, wanting to catch a glimpse of the fabled beast. This was after the most recent reports of the dragon sighted in Las Vegas, carrying something or- according to certain claims- some_one_ in its claw. The scales were found in an unmarked location partially buried in the sand, with the majority having been seized by the US Government for study. So far, no statements have been released, though it has been speculated that there are more scales to be found. This has led to a mass tribunal to the Mojave desert, second only to the California Gold Rush of 1848. Others have-"

"Okay I hate to interrupt you, Marjorie, but I can see behind you that it looks like the discussions are starting up again."

"Alright, let's listen in..."

...

"If you will all please take your seats, we will begin. Dr. Coroman, the floor is yours."

"Thank you. Now, as I was saying when we left off, I do not believe that, at this juncture, it is wise to continue under the assumption that this is something so simply explained by the work of our scientific predecessors. Brilliant and innovative they may have been, they never encountered something like this, and I believe it would be in our best interests to put aside their teachings for a time, for the sake of moving forward to an incredible breakthrough in our knowledge of both this world and whatever others may exist."

"Ah pardon me, Mr. Coroman, I hate to interrupt-"

"Hasn't stopped you so far, Dr. Leone..."

"I'm sorry?"

"Nothing. Please continue."

"Yes well, I hope I'm not speaking out of turn when I say that I have to question your assertions that we should, more or less, proceed blindly into our next phase of operations. To throw aside actual documented facts would be foolhardy and reckless, not to mention a potentially fatal error on our parts."

"If I may, Dr. Leone, that is not what I said. We are all of us here students of science, if different branches. We know what is fact and what is fiction, it just so happens that the line between the two are not nearly as clear as once thought. What we perceive as being fiction may very well become fact, as it has with the dragon. Need I remind that the giant panda was once a creature of myth as well?"

"Forgive me, Mr. Coroman, I-"

"_Dr._ Coroman, please."

"Ah... yes, alright. While I understand where you're coming from, please don't forget that the giant panda is a subspecies of bear, and one can just as easily call the creature were are now dealing with a sub-species of lizard or, as I have suspected for some time now, a long forgotten predecessor of theirs. It is my humble opinion that our main course of action as scientists be to discover what has caused this prehistoric ancestor of our reptilian friends to be reborn in modern times. Further information on my theories can be found in my upcoming book: The Great Lizard: Debunking the Dragon Myth."

"Sure to be a best-seller..."

"I'm sorry, if I might cut in?"

"Yes, Dr. Mulligan, what are your thoughts?"

"Well, let me first just say how honored I am to have this opportunity to sit down with some of today's most notable and promising members of the herpetology committee. And Dr. Coroman as well."

"Thank you."

"Thanks..."

"As you all know, Dr. Swartz and I have been working together to observe the dragon's behavior and collect data from the reported sightings. Due of the vague nature of the creature and minimal physical material, we have, like our colleagues, not had much by way of success. We simply cannot make a definitive statement about the creature. Whether it really is a dragon as Dr. Coroman states, or if it's something else entirely. I feel that if we are going to come to any sort of agreement here, it's that there is really no way to determine anything concrete about what we're dealing with, and that we should stay open to all possibilities. Yes, Dr. Leone, even dragons."

"Hmm... I can't say this doesn't come as a surprise to me, Dr. Mulligan. I assume Dr. Swartz is in agreement?"

"I am."

"I see. Well, while you do make a good point, it's going to take quite a bit of substantial evidence for me to accept as fantastic a possibility as a dragon."

"As is the nature of science."

"Alright, ladies and gentlemen, we are almost out of time. Thank you all for your participation, I hope we can all take something from tonight's discussion."

"You're welcome."

"Our pleasure."

"To those of you watching at home, thank you for joining us."

**  
"Dr. Leone's book, The Great Lizard: Debunking the Dragon Myth, is scheduled to be released in bookstores everywhere later this month. From Action News at 11's DragonWatch, this is Kent Tucker, signing off."

* * *

**A/N: A little more insight into the world at large. Next chapter proper will be up October 16th.**


	8. Chapter 5

Angrboda's haul today is an enormous red sack full to bursting with oddly shaped items Loki can't name. The end of the drawstring is looped over her tail, which she curls up to secure it. She flies to her junk pile and drops it near the top, where it tumbles down to the bottom. The bag falls open when it makes contact with the ground, and out spills a series of circular brass objects that made ugly sounds when they collide with each other. One of them issues a deep blast like a horn, but it doesn't look anything like the instruments he's used to.

"What is this?" Loki points at the offending object.

FRENCH HORN.

"So it is a horn," Loki says to himself. He kicks it back toward it's brothers, right in the dented side that his foot makes even worse.

"Where do you find all of these things?"

Angrboda glances back at her junk pile, a low growl permeating in her throat.

A LOT OF PLACES.

"Hmmm..."

Loki sits on some rock, watching her gently lift up each instrument in her claws and arrange them on a set of rock just above the pile. It goes on for the longest time and she never seems to be satisfie with how they're lined up. She switches one on the far right with one two to the left, then exchanges that one for the one directly beside it. Finally she has everything exactly where she wants it, and she steps back to admire her work.

Loki picks up one of her discarded books. He'd taken the liberty of looking through every single one to see if anything stuck out at him. Mostly, it just taught him that midgardian scribes were wholly sub-par in their skill. Of the few he found tolerable the one called 'Shakespeare' topped the list, and he flips through the large book of his complete works while Angrboda forgets his existence in favor of her trophies.

The next time he checks on her progress, one of the smaller horns on the far end is inching closer to the edge while Angrboda's back is turned. It falls only for her tail to shoot out and catch it. It wraps around the body of the instrument and carefully puts it back in it's place. This is all without Angrboda even turning her head, and Loki can't say he isn't impressed.

He knows she's finished when said tail sails over his head, creating a wind that blows the book shut on his fingers. It doesn't hurt, but it does earn her some ire as he sets it aside to see what she wants.

HOW LONG WAS I GONE FOR?

Loki furrows his brow. "I wasn't aware you wanted me to count the moments."

He knows that look, so he brings a hand to his chin, humoring her.

"A few hours at most," he finally says. "No more than five."

From the way she grunts and turns away, that must be a suitable answer, if not an ideal one. She checks her line of horns one more time, and Loki has to wonder what it is about them that enthralls her so. Shiny they may be, but they're also old and scratched probably too damaged to play even if she was still human. He's starting to think she gains most of her prizes through raiding other people's junk heaps.

With this latest inspection out of the way, she returns to the sand and writes out a new message. She doesn't get three words out before Loki knows what she wants.

HAVE YOU MADE ANY PROGRESS WITH CHANGING ME BACK?

A small, tight smile graces Loki's features. Inside, it is a telling grin that he will not let her see. Not just yet.

"Well..."

WELL?

She leaves a claw dug into the sand next to the message. Whether it's in preparation of writing a quick response or a threat, Loki can't say. Nothing more of her face or body language is clear, but it's not so easy to read such a face anyway. Loki wags a finger at her. He at least knows that will bother her.

"Tut tut, my dear Angrboda," he says. "Patience is a virtue, and experimentation takes time. A student of science such as yourself should know that."

DID YOU FIND ANYTHING AT ALL?

"Of course I did," he answers. He waits a beat for her to take that in and relax herself. "I discovered that one day is simply not enough to discover anything substantial."

She lets out a breath, the smoke that comes out aimed at nothing and just clouding around her head. She looks more and more like she's going to go and collapse in her junk pile and less like she's going to bite his head off. Her tail starts to twitch and stretch back to her 'trophy' wall, only to be retracted when she realizes what she's doing. She expends the energy by swiping her tail over the message with great force. The sand comes close to spraying Loki in the face, and she's extremely lucky that it doesn't.

SO NOW WHAT? DO YOU NEED MORE OF MY SCALES?

Loki rolls his eyes. He doesn't have to hear her voice to know how desperate she is. It's almost sad.

"I believe I still have enough," he says. Behind his back, he conjures an illusory basket of her purple scales and then holds it out for her to see.

FINE, BUT LET ME KNOW RIGHT AWAY WHEN YOU FIND SOMETHING.

"You will be the first."

He starts to turn away, but she's still writing.

AND ONE OTHER THING: HOW DID YOU KNOW I WAS A SCIENTIST?

Loki's lips close into a tight line. She's watching for his answer, not even in an accusatory way. She doesn't bend to better make eye contact with him, even her tail is uncharacteristically quiet. She must think it all unneeded, she's already caught him in his great big lie.

He can just see her now in his mind's eye. Her true self, not this dragon she's become. He's only ever seen her frightened and with eyes that weren't his, but it's not hard to imagine her trying to look intimidating or scary, standing on her tip-toes so her eyes just meet the bottom of his chin. In a way, she's really quite adorable.

"A mere deduction on my part," he tells her. "I have seen a great many books among your collection, many of which pertain to magic and folklore, the clear mark of one accustomed to study. You've also made allusions to it yourself previously. Perhaps you didn't notice. If nothing else, I am pleased to know that I've guessed correctly."

He puts on a friendly face that he's worn numerous times before and never meant. She writes no more and goes back to examining her latest prizes, as fooled as anyone else he's ever used it on.

He waits until she's not looking to duck behind a large rock formation. Leaving behind a double to 'work' on her cure, he sits alone with the Shakespeare book and skims through poetic passages about a pair of vapid children fancying themselves in love. Their insipid declarations quickly become tiring, and so he sets the book aside in favor of one of his own.

He checks the dimensional pocket that he keeps with him. More than one library book has disappeared into it, never again to be touched by the hands of another. He chooses an old favorite, open to a familiar page. The words jump out at him- he knows them all by heart- but even now full concentration alludes him.

An indeterminable amount of time passes. Angrboda is quiet save for a few more rearrangements of her things, and his double puts on a good show of working diligently. She must love seeing him so meek and obedient. He takes a few moments to look through the eyes of his double, and make sure she is still occupied. She has abandoned her instruments in favor of a cache of fine jewelry. They are not in any sort of order, and she isn't attempting to put them in one. She just stares at the chains of sapphire and ruby, running her claw over the smooth stone. Already, he can see faint scratches.

"Hm, so you finally find something of real worth and you are quick to spoil it," he says to himself. Her hearing his better than he thought, though, as he discovers when another blast of smoke goes his way. It has no affect on an illusion, but he coughs several times anyway.

He goes back to his reading while his double goes on 'working', and she continues to scratch those lovely gems to pieces. They keep to themselves until he hears the telltale swishing of her tail over sand. Loki keeps reading like nothing is happening, and makes sure his double pays her no mind either. He waits for her to finish and give a demanding grunt, which he doesn't answer. He looks through the doubles eyes, but keeps them downcast. She soon gets fed up with his silence and plants herself right in front of him. Then the double raises his head and smiles.

"You needed something?"

She makes a sidelong gesture at the sand.

YOU'VE BEEN WORKING ALL DAY. AREN'T YOU GETTING TIRED?

Loki reads it twice. Showing concern for him now, was she?

He looks at her with thinly veiled suspicion, but she looks as innocent as a twenty feet tall mythical beast can be.

"I have barely even started with my research," he lies. "And I have worked far longer hours than this. Do not underestimate me."

ARE YOU SURE ABOUT THAT?

"Very much so," he answers, and then boldly pats her on the foot, to which she hums appreciatively. The real Loki behind the rocks smirks.

WELL, I CAN'T THANK YOU ENOUGH FOR ALL THAT YOU'RE DOING FOR ME, LOKI. ESPECIALLY AFTER WHAT I DID.

"You needn't worry, dear Angrboda," he strikes a low bow to hide his grimace.

I SHOULD STILL FIND A WAY TO THANK YOU FOR WORKING SO HARD ALL DAY...

Something about that sentence feels wrong in a way her previous words did not. Before Loki can ponder that, Angrboda takes one big leap in the air and lands hard enough to crack the ground- right behind him.

She crushes the rocks under her feet and grabs Loki before he can run. With his concentration broken, the double fades away and it's too late now to pretend he isn't the genuine article. Holding him by the collar, Angrboda carries him to the forefront of the cave and holds him as high as her arm can reach, where he sees an entirely different kind of message scratched into the rock.

THAT'S A PRETTY COOL TRICK OF YOURS, THE CLONING OR WHATEVER IT IS. TOO BAD THEY DON'T WORK SO WELL COVERED IN SMOKE. HOW ABOUT YOU START ACTUALLY DOING WHAT I BROUGHT YOU HERE FOR INSTEAD OF TRYING TO PULL ONE OVER ON ME. DO YOU THINK I'M STUPID? I WILL HAPPILY ANSWER YOUR QUESTION ABOUT WHAT I EAT IF YOU KEEP THIS UP.

The next cloud of smoke to his face is the densest of them all, and the hottest. He confirms for her that he is not a fake by hacking up a lung while the burning air sings at his skin. When it clears, he draws in enough air to make his chest hurt, and feels a twinge poking at his adam's apple. She brings him impossibly close to her serpentine eyes, the meaning in their depths unmistakable.

_'Do I make myself clear?'_

Magic flares in Loki's fingertips, concealed from her by his back. He waits for just the right moment.

"It seems I have underestimated you," he says, and then his face darkens. "If nothing else, we are alike in that regard."

A bolt of green energy slams into the space between her eyes. She roars and lets him drop, and he lands gracefully on two feet. She stumbles around like a drunk, knocking into cavern walls that shake fiercely from the inertia. Her trophy wall is the first thing that falls apart, all her various horns and musical instruments clattering to the ground where many of them become even more broken than they already were.

By the time she retaliates, Loki is ready with his next attack. He jumps over her swinging tail and chants a spell in his head. Magic bursts forth, but she's more prepared this time and evades easily. Though the ceiling isn't so high as to be an advantage to her, it doesn't hinder her either. She takes to the air and flies in circles, faster and faster as he tries not to get dizzy while looking for a weak spot. Her tail was the best bet, so he focuses there and his next attack gets the very tip; it's good enough. She plummets to the ground on her back, but just when it looks like she's down for the count, she rolls over without a scratch.

Her eyes become slits as she lunges, trapping him beneath her claws and nearly flattening him. She picks him up, bringing a whole clump of packed sand and rock with him. She slams his body into the wall and pins him. His brain feels like it's doing backflips around his skull, he has to shut his eyes as tight as possible to prevent tearing. She presses him deeper into the rock, raising her head to him, but instead of her eyes, she shows him her teeth, all foot-long, pearly white, and knifelike. Loki can see his reflection in them, his helmet knocked off and his hair a mess and not a trace of fear to be found.

No, he is not afraid. He is angry at himself for holding back and he hates what she's reducing him to, but he is not afraid. That is beneath him.

She's not going to eat him either, he knows that for sure. No matter how much she may want to, it's still a human in there behind this monster, and she's proved more than once that her human sensibilities, though shaky, have never changed.

He knows she won't hurt him, and indeed, she doesn't.

What she does is to roar in his face. Through broken eardrums, rocks falling on his head and a forceful wind that almost peels the flesh from his bones, the meaning behind that is more obvious than even what her eyes can convey.

_'I hate you.'_

_'The feeling is mutual,'_ he thinks.

As the fight slowly leaves them, they catch their breath, hers coming out unseen for once. She doesn't drop him like before, just drags him down the wall until his feet touch the ground, and then she leaves him there and goes deeper into the cave where the shadows hide her. Loki stays where he is, despite the fact that she's left the cave entrance completely unprotected. If he tries to leave now, he can't be sure that she'll stop him. He can't be sure that she won't either, and ultimately he follows her.

She is sitting before a section of the cave he's never entered before, a pitch black tunnel with fathomless depths. A small spell to provide light shows that this is because the blackness he sees is not part of the tunnel at all. A thick black curtain has been shoddily weighted down by rocks to cover the space. What is behind it, Loki cannot say. Angrboda seems content to just sit there staring at in while pretending he isn't there. It's a shame that he won't be letting her.

"Well, now that we've both released some unsavory emotions, perhaps things will go much smoother from here."

She grunts quietly, and that's all he gets from her.

"I think you may have taken out some of the nearby mountains with that voice of yours, my dear."

Loki takes a step, inadvertently getting closer to the black curtain as well. She whips her head around and glares at him, catching Loki off guard, though he doesn't show it.

"If there is nothing else we need to discuss, I thought I'd turn in for the night."

She jerks her head at the ceiling, where her threat is permanently carved for his viewing pleasure.

"Yes, I understand," Loki says. "Is there anything else you wish of me?"

He doesn't know why he's asking, and clearly she doesn't either, but she goes back to the center of the cave and writes a single word in the sand.

APOLOGIZE.

Loki reads it with disdain and can't prevent himself from scowling. He turns it around with a cool smile.

"I will consider it."

He goes to bed at once, leaving her to fume.

* * *

Darcy has trouble sleeping that night, and not even because of her house guests.

Well, okay, maybe it's a_ little_ bit because of them. Hogun snores and Volstagg's undershirt smells like it was last washed a hundred years ago, which it probably was. At least Fandral and Sif are quiet.

Figuring out the sleeping arrangements was something of an adventure. Much more than actually getting them into the building had been. Darcy had thought- what with all the fancy talk and hand kissing crap- these Asgardian guys would probably have the whole chivalry thing down pat and offer Sif the extra bed. They decided who would take it through a brief bout of hand to hand combat that left Hogun victorious and Darcy two steps away from a heart attack after they almost knocked her dead grandmother's priceless jewelry box off the dresser.

Sif took to the floor with no complaints as Hogun fell asleep sitting up with his legs pulled in.

In spite of all this, it was Darcy's own twisted imagination that kept her from sleep, more than anything or anybody else.

It was not uncommon for her after everything she'd been through. Going to sleep just meant one more go around Jane's lab and one more walk through the door to find inhuman yellow eyes staring back at her with bloody pieces of Jane's clothing at her feet. She'd basically never sleep again if her body wasn't such a whiny bitch about it.

Rolling over for the fortieth time that night, Darcy is content ti lay in wait of the inevitable exhaustion that will drag her kicking and screaming to dreamland. Her wide open eyes take in the sight of Sif and Volstagg side by side on the floor, and Hogun perched on her roommate, Becca's, bed. It's a good thing Darcy never liked Becca, or else she'd feel guilty over his metal boots getting her favorite comforter so dirty.

_'She can just suck it up and wash it,'_ Darcy tells herself, thinking about the bratty girl she's forced to coexist with who won't even pick up two books at a time because she thinks it'll smudge her nail polish.

Some would call it terrible of her. She kindly invites those people to switch roommates with her for a day or two and then come back and tell her she's being too harsh.

Darcy trails along the faint outline of Volstagg's enormous stomach as it moves steadily up and down. She follows it all the way to the empty space on his opposite side, and her brow furrows.

Where's Fandral?

Darcy sits up in bed. Fandral is standing by the window looking out. His armor has been shed in favor of a simple tunic and pants. They're a pretty tight fit for 'casual' clothes, not that Darcy is complaining. He has his muscled arms crossed over a defined chest, making him quite the picture against the window like that.

Darcy tries to control her thought process- it's going to unnecessary places again- and forgets not to breathe too loudly.

"Oh," Fandral says, his head snapping to the side. "Lady Darcy! Forgive me, did I wake you?"

"No, no," Darcy says. She throws off the covers and sits up, stretching as she goes. "I mean it. I don't sleep much lately anyway. No big deal."

Fandral shakes his head, not looking convinced at all. "But it_ is_ a big deal. A lady needs her rest."

"And a warrior doesn't?" she teases, and he cracks a smile. "Seriously though, I thought you were sleeping."

"Someone must be up at all times to keep watch," he explains. "You never known when an enemy will strike."

"We're in Nowhere, New Mexico right now, dude. You don't have to worry about your kind of enemies here."

Fandral looks confused. "Dude? Who is this Dude? I know not such a name."

Darcy snickers out the corner of her mouth.

"Look, don't worry about me. I'm a college student, going without sleep comes with the deal. I'll be fine."

"But even so," he says reproachfully. It looks and sounds kind of cute and just about drives Darcy to fake a yawn and let him tuck her in.

Without looking back, she reaches and grabs her bathrobe from where it hangs on her bedpost. It's actually Becca's, but Darcy always uses it when she's gone because it's softer and fluffier and just in general better than hers. She props herself up on the window sill with her hands in her lap.

"I think I'll just keep watch with you for a while," she says. "In case something does show up, strength in numbers, you know?"

"Without a doubt," he says, nodding slightly. "But you'll forgive me, my lady, I am one of Asgards strongest warriors."

"And I am deadly with a taser," Darcy counters, grinning. "Just ask Thor if you don't believe me."

"Perhaps I shall."

He goes back to the window, as if something interesting or potentially life threatening has just happened that requires his undivided attention. Darcy checks, and there's nothing. He still looks like a kid who just lost his favorite toy and as hot as he is, the sexy brooding look does not suit him at all. He's more of an easy-going flirtatious type. Darcy fidgets awkwardly, wondering what- if anything- she should say next. It's entirely possible that what she said is the reason he looks so down in the first place. Her mother always told her she had a knack for saying the wrong thing at the wrong time. Maybe she shouldn't have brought up Thor.

Well, she'd already done it and trying to change the subject would just be weird at this point.

"So..." she puckers her lips on the o more than necessary. This isn't going well. "Dragon-hunting, that's got to be fun. The only thing I don't understand is how it brought you guys all the way out here."

He glances at her, which is a start.

"We've traversed lands more deadly than this one, and fought beasts the likes of which you can't imagine."

"Ever fought dragons?"

"Until a short time ago, I didn't even know they existed."

Darcy raises an eyebrow. That's certainly unexpected. She never bothered to ask them about any past experiences with dragons, even as the four of them cheerfully told her about everything they'd been doing to hunt down this one. She just assumed, being from essentially a fairytale world, they must have fought and killed a dozen of these things before now. Shows how much she knows.

"Lady Darcy, forgive me if I'm speaking out of turn."

Fandral looks at her more seriously than he has all night, in such a way that Darcy didn't think was possible in the short time they'd known each other. She nods for him to continue, but still he hesitates.

"You are of course not obligated to answer me, but your eagerness to discuss the subject of this dragon begets my curiosity, and-"

"Fandral," Darcy interrupts gently. "Just ask the question."

She knows what it is, and she thinks he knows she knows, and that it's starting to become clear that for all her posturing, this is the last thing she wants to be talking about to anyone. She's really dug herself into a hole here, hasn't she?

"Can you tell me what happened to you that night? And to Jane Foster?"

Darcy mouths along with the question she's been asked a million times. Fandral's wording is different, and he stumbles in places, but it's mostly the same old same old. At least Fandral isn't being intrusive about it. She doubts that he would push the matter if she tries to dodge, not that she could ever be sure. Too many other people she confided in turned around and went far beyond her comfort zone. They all had their reasons, well meaning or otherwise. Some thought she needed to let it all out for her own sake, some acted in a misguided effort to empathize with her, some wanted to interview her for an article in the paper, some wanted to use her as a source for their school reports, some were just assholes trying to get a rise out of her. What they all had in common was that they never learned exactly what happened that night. That stayed with Darcy, for better or for worse. Lately, it had seemed skewed pretty far into the latter category.

The silence following the big question goes on for a long time, too long for Fandral, whose face is turning red as he looks ready to prostrate himself before her and beg for forgiveness.

"As I said, you don't have to answer if-"

"It was about two in the morning."

Fandral shuts right up like she'd physically covered his mouth with her hand. Darcy takes a breath and goes on.

"I usually stayed up in the lab with Jane. Ever since Thor left she'd become more dedicated to her work than ever. I used to try and make her turn in at a certain time of night for her health- she looked downright sick sometimes she was getting so little sleep- but she never listened. That night, I was too tired to argue with her, so I just went to bed on my own and left her at it."

Darcy pauses to swallow something back.

"I uh, I probably shouldn't have... but whatever. Anyway, I went to bed, and I remember it was a really clear night, no clouds or anything. The next thing I know, I'm being jolted awake by some kind of roaring coming from Jane's lab... and I can hear a bunch of people screaming and gunshots going off, and I didn't know what was going on, I just knew I needed to make sure Jane was okay. So I ran back to the lab, and as I was getting closer, I realized that the roaring was coming from inside. I opened the door and..."

She stops again, this time for no other reason than that she just has to.

"Her clothes were shredded, there was barely anything left, and the dragon was literally a foot away from me. I could see all of it, but I don't think it saw me and that's probably why I'm still alive. I watched it fly away... I only later found out about that little girl... and that was it. Jane was dead and the cause of it was gone, roaming free."

Fandral gives a solemn nod.

"You don't have to tell me more," he says.

"It's fine," Darcy says with a smile. It surprises her that it's genuine, but what's even more shocking is that she actually does feel a little better. "You're a good listener."

"I'm afraid that is all the console I am confident I can provide," Fandral says. He's bluntly honest, and still soft as a puppy. Darcy hopes she can keep herself composed long enough to tell him how much more that means to her than all the bloated, phony words of comfort in the world.

"Oh come on, you're doing pretty good so far," she teases with a lightness in her words that hasn't been there in ages. After so long, it sounds strange to Darcy's ears.

"You are too kind," he says.

He pushes away from the wall with his shoulder offering her a hand.

"I think it best we both turn in now," he says. "This has been a trying day for us all, no one more than you, Lady Darcy."

He's so damn proper sounding, even when he's being flirty, which his smile definitely is no matter how innocent his words are. She wants to either flirt right back or laugh her head off. Pre-trauma Darcy would've undoubtedly done at least one, but post-trauma Darcy isn't like that. She's a little more reserved, more cautious. She thinks things through in the thorough and conscientious way pre-trauma Darcy used to think she did. This whole 'holding a slumber party with a bunch of immortal warriors' deal is the craziest thing she's done in... pretty much ever.

"I guess you're right," she says.

She avoids his hand but not in a rude way (at least she hopes it's not). Fandral accepts this with little more than a split second falling of his features and then a graceful bow.

"I bid you goodnight then, Lady Darcy."

She shifts a little in bed to get comfortable. "You can just call me 'Darcy' you know. The whole Lady thing makes me feel like I'm some kind of fifty year old heiress in a powdered wig."

Fandral frowns, and there's that confused look again that definitely makes her want to laugh or kiss it off of him.

"I'm not sure what you mean, but I will so if you wish... _Darcy_."

Kiss him. Definitely kiss him.

Darcy rolls over in bed, facing the wall but watching the shadows that come off the blindingly bright streetlight just beside the blinking one. She watches Fandral step over Volstagg, knocking into his stomach in the process. Darcy winces, but Volstagg is way too out to be stirred at this point by anything softer than an explosion.

"Night Fandral," she whispers.

"Goodnight, Darcy," he responds, much more easily than before she might add. "I regret that we will part ways in the morning."

He goes out of sight while Darcy is left to consider the idea of 'parting ways'. It's becoming a much less appealing concept by the second. Darcy closes her eyes and falls into the best sleep she's had in age, amid thoughts and plans that let her know once and for all that pre-trauma Darcy is alive and well.

* * *

Another day means another scavenging trip for Angrboda. That's what Loki assumes when she wakes up the morning after and almost immediately takes off without a word. She stays long enough to see that Loki is awake and greet him with a healthy dose of smoke in the face. Once she's confident that he is not another illusion and that he is working on her cure like a good little boy, she takes flight.

Loki pretends to work for another half hour, just in case she's off spying on him. He will give her no reason to think that he is being dishonest (not that much anyway). He runs the same experiments he did before with all the same results. Getting new scales from her had required much more discretion and timing, but he managed not to wake her this time.

Once he's sure Angrboda is not going to swoop back at a moment's notice, Loki leaves his worktable and the useless scales to gather dust. He goes back to her junk pile. The knocked over trophy wall has been reassembled while he slept in an entirely new order. The twisted brass creation she called a French Horn is in the center. Why it deserves a place of honor when it's not even nice to look at is beyond him, as is what makes a woman of science care for them in the first place.

What more he sees of her junk pile is books stacked on top of each other with titles that provide him nothing of interest, and various midgardian devices he doesn't have a name for. One of them is a smallish box made of metal with a long silver stick coming out the side. Loki picks it up to examine it, and then drops it again when it emits a loud whine. From there, he has no more interest in whatever bits of rubbish Angrboda has collected. He's now more convinced than ever that her primary source of treasures is other people's rubbish. Doesn't she have more standards than that?

What makes Loki curious is that one section of the cave she has tapered off. Well, no, what _really_ makes him curious is that he hasn't removed the dragon as a threat and left already, and instead has willingly remained it's prisoner (if in name only). Not wanting to bother with any deep psychological debates today, he chalks it up to a lack of desire to return to Asgard and leaves it at that. It's the conclusion internal conflict would've brought him to eventually anyway.

Loki jumps over an old wooden desk and approaches the curtain. It sways gently in the breeze that carries from outside, not nearly enough to reveal it's contents. Loki runs his fingers along the heavy fabric. He pushes and it gives easily. Angrboda made a fair choice in shielding for whatever she's hidden back here. It's dark and thick enough to fool the untrained eye, but loose enough that when they do find it, they can enter without issue. So really, it's only a fair choice in his favor, and a dreadfully poor one in hers.

Loki first checks the entryway for any sign of her, but she is gone and he has no time to waste.

Without delay, he throws back the curtain and steps inside.

A bright light blinds him, one he thinks is some kind of magic trick at first. Instincts kick in and he starts preparing a counterspell when he remembers that Angrboda has no magic to spare and couldn't have set a trap. He keeps his guard up anyway as his eyes adjust to the darkness. The one source of light, as brilliant as it is, isn't strong enough to provide for the tunnel, not with that curtain closing it off.

Loki approaches the enormous mass, lips thinning. He almost disappointed in what he's seeing. She was so protective of this spot, so suspenseful was her behavior that the answer is just painfully obvious. Another myth confirmed true; second only to the supposed magical potential of the dragons is their unwavering need for all things bright and gold.

Unlike the junk outside, the gold is neatly stacked based on size and weight. Bigger items go on the bottom, smaller on top. Some are off on their own, displayed similarly to the brass instruments outside. It's mostly jewelry. He picks up a necklace by the chain and lets it run through his fingers until the weight of the pendent attached makes the worn out chain break and sends it to the ground.

The rest of the jewelry, as perfect and rich as it looks from far off, has similar flaws upon closer inspection. Some are minor scratches, other are even more broken than that necklace. Loki picks up a ring with a diamond in it. So far, it's the only thing he's found which doesn't have anything wrong with it no matter where he looks. The diamond is not large, but not small either, and it fits a finger that could hardly belong to a child, much less an adult woman. He places it back in it's place, along with everything else he touched, including the necklace on the floor. Once they're in their proper spots, Loki steps back to examine the horde altogether.

Coins are falling at his feet and he is careful to magic the dirt off of whatever he steps on. He takes in a few sets of gold plated devices he believes the Midgardians call cars. If they are, they are far smaller than he expected. Most likely, they are mere models for something bigger. Other random objects are scattered about that one would not likely find made of gold, not like Angrboda. Loki knows some of them personally, others only by name. They are all equally unimportant to him. The only thing that matters is how new everything looks to this place. Only the bottom layer has any signs of dirt or dust. In comparison to the junk pile outside, this is quite clean. She must have only just started collecting them.

It raises many questions, like why she would wait so long to act on instincts that were clearly both true to life and powerful. There's also the question of where all that brass fits into this. Is she trying to find a substitute? How very strange...

Loki will have to think about it more later. He does a final onceover of the place to remove any traces of himself. The magic flares to life and roars in his unprotected ears. After a few long seconds, he concludes that everything is as it should be and turns to leave.

Angrboda is waiting for him in front of the curtain.

Loki pauses mid-step to meet her eye. She stares down at him with the most animalistic eyes he has ever seen from her. It's like all traces of humanity have vanished, and though she is silent and still, that alone is enough.

Loki smiles politely.

"Good evening, Angrboda, you're home early."

She charges.


	9. Chapter 6

Morning comes peaceful and warm, and Darcy finds herself awake and dressed much earlier than she's supposed to be. Tuesday is one of her slow days: only one class in the late afternoon leaving ample time for sleeping in. She rubs the sand from her eyes and holds back a yawn for the third time. Sif and the Warriors Three are all wide awake and alert, without even a hint of fatigue as she leads them to the student parking lot. A couple of people have seen them, but so far, they've kept to themselves, and Darcy doesn't even have to stare them off. Luckily, the parking lot is empty when they get there. No awkwardness at last.

Darcy forces her drooping eyes as wide open as possible. She takes another long drink of her coffee cup, wishing it would hurry up and take effect. She's starting to feel like some kind of slacker around all these super powered types.

"I see this is where we part, Darcy," Fandral says behind her.

Darcy doesn't turn; she stares off into the horizon like she's another great warrior. A hard (yet not cool) wind blows and her hair gets tangled up in front of her face. Darcy tries to push it back, her efforts impeded by a whole chunk of it getting in her mouth. So much for that.

"So where you guys going from from here?"

She looks now to see the four of them at a loss, each waiting for another member of their party to answer her.

"We have attempted to track the dragon's movements," Sif says. "Unfortunately, it hasn't made any significant appearances since Loki was taken."

Darcy nods in understanding. For a while, there had been a steep drop in dragon sightings that made some people believe it was gone for good. Darcy herself almost believed it for a while, and it had royally pissed her off to the point where she'd just about worn a hole in her jeans while trying to rub a stain clean. Then the sightings started again, this time from more professional minded people with high tech cameras and surveillance equipment. They caught pictures and video of the dragon flying through fog or over mountain ranges at night. It hadn't disappeared, it had gotten smarter.

"I was thinking last night," Darcy says. "That maybe you should try Puente Antiguo next."

"You mean the place where the beast first appeared?" Hogun asks.

"You believe the dragon would return there," says Volstagg.

"It's not so much that as that I think maybe you'll find out how it got here," she explains. "Might help you find it faster."

"And gain a better idea of it's true nature," Fandral supplies.

A slight murmur goes through them, too low for Darcy to hear. Sif and Hogun share glance and have a silent conversation. Hogun nods a few times and smiles, and Darcy fights the urge to do the same.

"You make a good point, Lady Darcy," says Sif.

"However the walk will be far more arduous than before," Hogun observes as he looks down the street like he can see New Mexico at the other end.

Darcy purses her lips. "Yeah, that's true. I did a GPS search this morning, and it looks like it's about three days on foot, possibly longer."

None of them look phased like she'd expected (hoped?) they'd be. They don't look enthusiastic either, so at least that's something.

"The best bet would be driving, but I'm thinking you guys don't have experience behind the wheel of a car."

"No, not at all," Volstagg says solemnly. He then leans into Fandral and whispers loudly, "What is a car?"

"I'd be happy to drive you myself," Darcy knows she has their full attention now. "Too bad I have classes today and Thursday, because I'm actually free every other day until next Monday. My professors are at some kind of big teacher's conference or something."

"We couldn't impose on you any longer," Fandral says.

Darcy grins. "You know, you're really cute, and you're not imposing either."

Fandral furrows his brow as he tries to wrap his head around the 'cute' comment. Darcy whips her phone out and dials her professor. As soon as he picks up, she lets out a loud cough straight into the receiver.

"Oh-" cough cough "Hello Professor Donahue, this is Da-" cough cough cough "Darcy Lewis. I really hate to do this, but I have the worst fever right now and-" cough cough cough "I'm really sorry but I don't think I can make your class today. I feel so awful and... yeah, I think that's for the best. I wish it hadn't come to this, but I can barely-" cough "Can barely-" cough "Can... okay thank you, sir... got it, two tylenol pills every six hours. I'll see you next week." cough cough.

Darcy hangs up the phone, feeling quite pleased with herself as she observes the stunned Asgardians she's thrown her lot in with.

"Okay boys and girl, if you'll follow me, my car is right this way."

She points at the bulky old pickup truck that is her precious baby, parked in the corner away from all the other cars. If she doesn't do that, she winds up scratching everyone else's door when she gets out. They follow her to it, all but Fandral two steps behind her.

"Why are you doing this?" he asks.

With her head held high, Darcy meets his gaze. "Because if I don't, I'm just going to keep sitting on my ass and wasting away, and Jane would kill me for that."

She takes the keys from her pocket, and already she feels herself coming alive again.

* * *

This fight is shorter, and when it ends, it ends swiftly and decisively. If there is one thing Loki knows about combat, it's learning everything you can about the opponent the first time you face them. If they survive, they'll come after you again, and you'll know all their weaknesses.

Angrboda roars in blind rage, her attack falling short when Loki's whole body is engulfed in light. She screeches, averting her eyes, and Loki seizes the opportunity to blast her straight through the curtains. She falls just short of her junk pile, and Loki leaps after her. A well placed spell pins her to the ground. Angrboda howls and screams and fights against invisible bonds, hard enough to sink into the earth and still find no leeway.

Loki lands on top of a rock fixture, sitting at the top. He watches her struggle and thrash about in amusement. Several times, she nearly takes her entire tower down on top of her with that cumbersome tail of hers.

"You can do that all day and you will never get out," he says. "Only with my word will the spell be broken, and we have some things to talk about first."

She roars, but it doesn't appear directed at him, or any one thing for that matter. Her tail slams up and down with more force each time, until she can't anymore. Her whole body slowly goes still as she expends all her energy, and only when the exhaustion sets in does Loki come down. In his head, he performs the counterspell to free her, and keeps it from his face what he's done. She won't have noticed yet herself.

"Now that we're all calm and paying attention," he says as he comes to stand by the side of her head. "I thought we settled this."

She looks away from him. She'd probably fly off again if she knew she could. Her eyes are slowly regaining their edge of humanity. It's surprising how much it relieves him.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

She grunts angrily. Loki is pushing the bar now, and he knows it, and he's not done yet.

"I see you're protective of your gold above all else."

The junk pile teeters ominously. Her violent movements may have loosened the ground underneath.

"To hide it from me for so long..." he goes on thoughtfully. "I hope you know how very difficult it is to keep secrets from me. That you managed it is quite a feat."

She twists around to one side, and then takes a moment to realize that she did it at all. Loki smiles innocently as she growls and pulls herself back up. He takes a stance just in case she tries anything, but she just walks away from him. There's another important rule of combat: knowing your limitations and choosing your battles. At least she knows that one.

"It's been spoken of, the dragon's love of gold," he says while pacing. "You just continue to play with my expectations, don't you?"

IF YOU'RE FINISHED BEING A COCKY BASTARD, HOW ABOUT YOU JUST GO BACK TO FINDING A WAY TO CHANGE ME BACK?

She lumbers away from the sand after writing that single message that doesn't tell him anything he wants to know. Not that he expects her to be an open book, especially not with him. He leaves it alone, like she wants him to. Unlike what she wants, he stays far away from his work table.

"You are quite presumptuous to order me around," he says, strolling over to her side. "I've killed lesser beings for such impudence."

Low grumbling builds in her throat, but it is always there when she's angry and so he isn't concerned. She keeps close to her gold stash, situating herself in such a way that even the black curtain that protects it is covered from his view. He wonders if she realizes that she is just confirming his suspicion, or if she even cares.

"I suppose you'll want me to apologize for this as well."

She gives him a look, like she's saying 'you think' and waiting for an opportunity to try and attack again, though Loki doubts the latter. The tension in the air that arises from her rage and steady animal sensibilities has ceased to be oppressive. She's still angry, but maybe now she'll learn to express it better, without hurting herself or causing more damage to her home.

"In my defense, I was never told not to explore," he says. "If you had something you didn't wish me to see, you should have said so."

AND YOU'D HAVE LISTENED?

Her writing is not so good with her tail, but it is acceptable.

"Hmmm..." Loki says.

EXACTLY.

She brings her tail back in. It swipes a foot over his head, but he doesn't think it's a threat this time. She looks more tired than he's ever seen before, her eyes getting heavy. Her body curls into a ball with her tail coming around her head to complete the circle. Loki backs away to give her some room. Her scales take on a shine in the light of early afternoon that creeps in from the cave's opening. It comes close, but never touches her face.

Loki's foot sticks out of the shadows, and he moves further in, never turning his back to her though he doubts she still cares enough to bother with him.

"You've worked yourself too hard," he says soothingly. "Perhaps you should sleep."

In an instant she is on her feet and glaring like she can literally see through him.

Loki braces himself for a barrage of smoke that doesn't come. Her entire head presses into him, pushing him into the wall. She seems intent on posing a threat to him, meaning she's either forgotten his handy victory over her not five minutes ago or she's giving in to that animal side of hers and has lost the ability to think. He has a new spell in mind if that's the case, but for now he'll wait and see what happens. Inside, he is thrilled to the core at how much fun she's making this.

"Such mistrust in me," he observes. "You play at intimidation when a moment ago you couldn't stand from exhaustion."

WHAT HAVE YOU EVEN DONE TO MAKE ME TRUST YOU?

She writes in a different patch of sand he's never seen before. There could be hundreds more in this cave, now that he thinks about it.

EVER SINCE YOU GOT HERE, YOU'VE DONE NOTHING BUT PRANCE ABOUT LIKE YOU OWN THE PLACE AND JERK ME AROUND, AND I'M SUPPOSE TO JUST LET YOU WALK ALL OVER ME?

Her outburst is not as moving as she'd like it to be, Loki notes. Perhaps if she had a voice...

WHAT ARE YOU EVEN DOING HERE IF YOU'RE NOT GOING TO HELP ME? WHY NOT JUST GO BACK TO YOUR FAMILY? CALL YOUR FRIENDS AND YOUR BROTHER TO COME KILL ME AND RESCUE YOU.

And just like that, the thrill is gone and his insides are shriveled and frozen. Loki snarls and shoves her away. She stumbles back with a yelp like she didn't know he could do that. Loki stalks to the edge of the cave, hearing her become more and more agitated as he gets closer. He goes around the line between the sun and the shadows and swerves to the left.

"Do not _ever_ bring those people up in my presence again," he seethes.

Angrboda raises her head, teeth bared like a smile.

OH I'M SORRY, DID I TOUCH A NERVE?

"You have no idea the forces you are playing with."

DON'T I? I MEAN, CONTRARY TO YOUR WHOLE 'IT'S ALL ABOUT ME' SCHTICK, PRETTY MUCH EVERYONE HAS PROBLEMS WITH THEIR FAMILY ONCE IN A WHILE. IF YOU THINK YOU'RE THE ONLY ONE, YOU'RE DELUDING YOURSELF.

"Don't you say another word."

SO WHAT HAPPENED? SOME KIND OF SIBLING RIVALRY? DID MOM AND DAD NOT LOVE YOU E-

A hard burst of air slams into the rocks on either side of her, leaving the message unfinished. Angrboda stares briefly at the indentures, all of which are deep enough for her to fit most of her neck into. She slowly looks at Loki, who catches his breath while magic flares around him, searching for a target. She pulls her tail to her body like before, only now it seems more like a defense mechanism. The smoke emitting from her nostrils has a screen-like effect that hides her in a thin cloud. Loki can see through it, though, like he can see through _her_. She may be big and she may be strong, but right now she's nothing more than a scared little woman in way over her head.

"This is your final warning, mortal," he says venomously. "_Never_ speak of this to me again or you _will_ suffer."

He goes to sit in the darkest corner of the cave that he can find. It's over by her gold stash, behind a section of rocks that form an enclosure. He seals off the open end with a transparent shield. If she tries to come in after him, it will jettison her out of the cave and possibly halfway around the planet depending on how angry he is. It's very childish and petty of him, but what does he care what she thinks? They are nothing to each other. In her mind, he's but a one way ticket back to her old life of mortal insignificance.

He doesn't see her again for a while. The spell can't block out sound, but all he hears is light shuffling and a few puffs of smoke here and there. All of it is too delicate for a dragon. He quells any shred of curiosity he might have under the threat of killing her the very next time he sees her face. Much as it would give him satisfaction for the moment, by the next the act will be hollow and meaningless. The only thing he can do and keep his mental state intact is to stay where he is. After a while she may even forget he's these entirely.

Night falls and morning comes after. Loki doesn't know if she's slept, but aside from an hour or two at a time, he himself's been wide awake. He backtracks to the last time he had a full night's sleep. It was a couple of days before his capture at least. No matter, he works best under strenuous conditions.

He could've stayed right where he was for days, waiting her out until she couldn't take it anymore and came to find his. It's when the sun is at it's highest point in the sky, and he's resting on the softened ground, that his stomach starts to whine.

Loki lowers the book. His stomach rumbles hard like it's going to rise up and demand food. In fact, he thinks he hasn't eaten recently either. The reserve food he always carries on hunting trips has run out. He knew he should've packed more. A quick search of his pockets, both real and magical based, turns up nothing. Loki curls his fingers, racking his brains for some other place he's not thinking of that he might've stashed food. His stomach grinds incessantly. He's never had a hard time going on small amounts of food for a few days. The problem comes when those few days are up, and then he becomes ravenous.

Loki's ears perk up. He hasn't heard a peep from her in hours. She could've flown away while he was asleep for all he knows. Taking the chance, Loki lowers the shield and steps out into the light. He catches the tip of her tail and then he pulls back. Outside, Angrboda shifts, and Loki curses silently for letting himself get caught. His vexation wanes as the minutes go by and she doesn't come to drag him out. His mind calms even as his body grows more insistent. He needs to find some food, and fast. Conjuring it up is not the best idea, not when he's already using so much energy to hide himself. Plus, anything edible made from magic never tastes right.

It comes down to no other option, lest he want to try making meat out of rocks. Loki slides through the shield, bringing it down for good as he goes. Around the bend, he sees the massive shape of her form by the wall. Her chest rises and falls so slow, he thinks for a moment that she's dead. On the ground is another, much smaller form that he cannot distinguish from this here. It's when he approaches it that he can identify the fresh deer carcass, and make out the message just above it.

I'M SORRY ABOUT WHAT I SAID YESTERDAY. I FIGURED YOU'D BE HUNGRY, SO I GOT YOU SOMETHING.

Loki looks at Angrboda, and her eyes are open and on him. He returns her stare. If she's planning some kind of sneak attack by first lulling him into a false sense of security, then she's even more of a desperate fool than he thought. Kneeling, he runs his fingers along the deer's fur, feeling for a heartbeat that is no longer there. It's still warm.

From the air, he pulls a knife, smaller and duller than what he needs, but a quick spell takes care of that. He makes sure to cast it in plain sight, continuing with the slicing open of the deer's stomach. It's guts fall out in a heap, the acrid smell of blood fills the air. Angrboda buries her nose into the ground a good fifty feet away.

Loki cleans up inside of the deer, banishing the excess and prepared a space for the meat. He works quickly, taking his time only when the venison is roasting over a fire. The delicious scent wafts through, eliminated the awful stench from earlier. Angrboda moves her feet constantly, groaning like she's been injured. Loki can't say he doesn't understand. As mouth-watering as the smell is to him, he can't imagine how she must be feeling.

"Waiting for a thank you now?" he asks.

NOT REALLY.

"Oh?" he can't say he expected that, but she's not done yet.

IF YOU DON'T DO APOLOGIES, I HIGHLY DOUBT YOU'LL BE THANKING ME ANY TIME SOON EITHER.

Loki goes to check the meat. It's still not brown enough for his liking. He takes a large piece off that's almost ready and, after ripping a smaller piece off of that and sampling it, throws the rest at her feet.

"Here is my thanks."

She makes a noise of surprise, lowering her nose to the meat and sniffing cautiously. She nudges it a little, rolls it onto his side, and anything else she can think of other than eating it.

"Something wrong?" he asks lightly. "I could have saved it for my own famished self, but even though this is the first time you've provided me with sustenance in days, I was gracious enough to share."

OH GIVE ME A BREAK. YOU HAD PLENTY OF FOOD, I SAW YOU EATING.

"That doesn't mean it had any taste."

Loki takes the venison off the fire and lets it cool. The high altitude brings in heavy winds and it takes significantly less time for it to be ready. Loki takes a single bite and smiles wide.

"And if I had known something so appetizing could be found in this realm, I would have asked for food a long time ago."

Angrboda looks like she knows just what him 'asking' for something entails, then eats her meat anyway.

Loki leaves the fire going even after he's done. The cheerful crackling of the flames comforts him, even though he has difficulty getting close unless he concentrates. He can't look at his hands as he holds them over the warm air. His mind replays images of the Jotunn's hand clamping down and letting that hateful blue taint his skin.

He grows tired of this and leaves. Angrboda raises her head, following his movements. He lets her, too worn out to provide a comeback as he finds a clear spot. Blissful darkness shrouds him from sight, and he would've been happy to keep it that way if Angrboda didn't have other ideas.

Loki doesn't think much of it when she starts moving, not until she nudges at his arm with her nose and rests herself beside him. She's near enough to have her head in his lap, but she knows better than that.

"What do you want now?"

It comes out more harshly than he intended, but he wasn't about to go back on it. Angrboda doesn't even react except for a low growl with no bite to it that seems more for the sake of give some kind of response than anything else.

"Don't tell me you're all of a sudden concerned for me," he says.

She tilts her head to one side.

WHY NOT?

Loki laughs and shakes his head. "You wouldn't be the first to play this game with me. More likely, you yourself are not eager to spend another night alone, and if so, it's a shame you can't do better for company."

Her head falls back down, and the next sound that comes out of her mouth is one of sadness. She sits herself all the way down, completely settled. Loki thinks about getting up and going to sit somewhere else, but he has a striking suspicion that she will follow him. He'll just have to wait until she's asleep. It won't take long, she looks even more worn out than she did last night.

"How far did you have to go to find that deer?" he asks.

FAR.

"I can imagine," he says, looking out. "This desert does not look like a good home for most creatures."

WHAT ARE YOU TRYING TO IMPLY?

Loki smirks. "I don't mean to offend, merely make a general statement."

She doesn't look upset, not as far as Loki can tell. Her tail moves to write a new message, but she stops after a few letters and erases it. She seems poised to start again, but her tail does little more than hover over the sand. A fresh wind blows and carries away some of the granules, but still she does not write. After a while, she lets her tail drop, and there it remains until Loki dares to speak again.

"My biggest concern is that this offering of yours was nothing more than an apology, and that it will not be repeated. It is not my wish to raise a fuss, but I was not lying about the taste of magic based food. I would only partake as a last resort."

BUT YOU CAN MAKE IT?

Loki frowns.

I'M NOT SAYING THAT I WON'T BRING YOU FOOD, I JUST WANT TO MAKE SURE THAT IF THERE COMES A DAY WHERE I CAN'T FOR WHATEVER REASON, YOU'RE NOT GOING TO STARVE TO DEATH.

"Hah! If that is you fear, then allow me to relieve you. I have gone many a fortnight without so much as a table scrap and had no trouble for it."

She pulls her head up in shock.

"It's true, it comes with the territory of hunting with Thor. He was always a brash, willful child. He liked to lead us into places we had no business being with the intent of hunting game. I don't think there was a single time that didn't end with us getting lost."

THAT SOUNDS AWFUL.

"For a while it was, until I saw the benefits. I learned a great deal from those ill-advised trips, all about how one survives on their own in the wilderness. How to keep warm and find shelter, what kind of plant life could be safely ingested, how to slaughter kill for it's meat."

Loki's eyes flick to the last bit of deer meat he has saved away for tomorrow.

"I was almost disappointed when Thor finally learned to plan his trips beforehand."

I HAD NO IDEA.

Loki holds back a knowing grin. Once more, her true face is shining through the scales and the snout. She has no more fear, only wonder, and curiosity, a thirst to know more. She has all the markings of a true scientist.

"But I suppose you are tired of hearing me talk about my brother," he says silkily. "It must bore you so."

She hesitates to answer, hiding her face like the secrets she believes she keeps.

IT'S OKAY. I DON'T MIND.

_'Of course you don't,'_ Loki thinks as he leans his head back and runs his hand along the scaly lines of her forehead. Angrboda hums contentedly, and this is how the night passes.

* * *

In all his years of service to the Allfather and his clan, Heimdall doesn't believe he's ever seen his prince look so despondent. He stands below Heimdall's post, gazing out at the endless space Heimdall knows by heart. It is here where he sees all the the universe has to offer, all it's greatness and it's follies. Within him is more knowledge than a thousand men, but still he doesn't know what he will tell his prince if he asks the questions that he knows is on his mind.

This is the first time in days Thor has been to visit, but he's been planning to since his return. Of course he has. How could he not? If the Allfather hadn't kept him busy these past few moons, he would've returned the moment their first meeting was finished. He would have stood as he is right now, watching and waiting.

"Can you see him?" he asks, his voice heavy with emotion.

"I cannot," Heimdall answers truthfully.

The prince's breath catches; he exhales slowly to keep himself together.

"How do you know he lives?"

Heimdall chuckles. "Don't insult me, my prince. The only way one can hide from my sight is through powerful magic, and their own will. I don't believe Loki would have the means for either if he no longer lived."

"Why does he hide then? Why will he not let us save him?"

Heimdall closes his eyes. It's not becoming of an all-seer such as himself, but he is overcome with pity for Odin's eldest son. The younger has a heart full of darkness, anger, and pain. He proved as much during his brief reign over Asgard, something Heimdall could never have seen a good ending to. Prince Loki was not fit to rule anymore than Thor had been. Maybe if things had been different, if he hadn't learned what he really was.

But then, Heimdall knows, the truth would have come out one way or another. He told Odin as much the day he adopted the jotunn babe into his family, and his warnings went unheeded. Now look what's come of it.

"Your brother will return in his own time." Such comforting words seem strange for the ears of a grown man, but they are what Thor needs to hear. If they really aren't, Heimdall is about to find out.

Thor starts away, walking in a circle with his head bent.

"Father believes we should abide by Mother's vision and let things take their course."

"He does," Heimdall answers.

"Mother believes so too, in spite of her fears, because her visions have never once been wrong."

"They haven't."

Thor stops and looks up.

"And yet, Father has not forbidden me from coming to you, though he knows that I could at any moment and do what I see fit to be done. He has not told you to stop me."

Heimdall gives a single, slow nod of his head. "He hasn't."

Thor clenches his fist. Mjolnir is at rest on his belt, but it glows with the immeasurable power of legends old as the eyes of the one who wields it harden.

"Heimdall..."


	10. Chapter 7

The princes are gone, both of them now. The people, they talk, none so loud nor as passionately as the great sorceresses. They convene the night of Prince Thor's departure in secret, simply so they can scream and cry and fret over it together.

"I just can't understand it," Svanhild is still saying a day and a half later.

She walks through palace halls with Mette, bowling over people as she goes. Mette, being much smaller in stature, has to run to keep up and constantly stops to apologize to those Svanhild shoves aside.

"Uh, if I may, Lady Svanhild," she says with her head bowed. "I-"

"Of course you may not. Honestly Mette, can't you see that I am speaking?"

Mette shrinks back with a whimper.

"Honestly, such nerve you have," Svanhild shakes her head. "As I was saying, I simply cannot fathom why Prince Thor would put so much on the line just to save Prince Loki. Of course I understand the family obligation between the two but really, after everything Loki did to sabotage Prince Thor's coronation, you'd think he'd be happy to have the miscreant gone."

Mette gasps.

"Oh calm yourself, girl, I know what I say," Svanhild says with a wave. "It is no great secret that Loki has never been what Asgard needs in a prince, let alone a king. Someone who spends so little time with proper men's work and instead impedes on _our_ studies, what gives him the right?"

"He is very powerful," Mette whispers. "More than any of us."

"Hmph, he would like to think that. You shouldn't let yourself give in to fear of him, Mette. Assuming he still lives, he is just a single little man who plays with magic. He may have some skill, but we are the most well read and experienced sorceresses Asgard has to offer. Personally, I always thought his attempts at sorcery were a mere front to appear special and compensate for his unfortunate appearance."

They enter the library, people bowing respectfully for them as they pass. Svanhild gracefully receives them, but Mette has never known how to handle high regards. Their table is not empty when they arrive. Runa is flipping through a massive tome and jotting down notes. She looks as though she's been there for hours, rooted to the spot.

"I see you're busy," Svanhild observes.

"I try to remain productive," Runa says, eyes flicking up at Svanhild. "One can only pine for a man for so long before they feel inclined to use their time more wisely."

Svanhild's eyes narrow. "I'm not sure I like your tone, Runa."

"And your lack of decisiveness is amusing as always."

The air changes around Svanhild, growing dense with magical energy. Mette has to inch her chair all the way to the other end of the table just to breathe easy.

"Why don't you tell me what it is you are studying, since it's so very important and worthwhile."

"Merely a new potion," Runa says. She waves a single long finger over her book, the pages turning automatically. She reads through a particular passage, pen at the ready. "I have yet to move on past the theoretical stage, but it's intended function is to combat job related stress in the working man. My hope is for it to promote better work ethic by providing relief during difficult times."

Svanhild's fire dulls, as does her countenance as a whole. Runa smiles slightly.

"So I see you've been discussing our Prince with Mette." She sends the youngest member of their clan a sympathetic look. "Have you made any headway in your task?"

"That is not something I would speak of openly, my dear Runa," Svanhild says sweetly. "And that aside, I wasn't aware that caring for and loving our great prince was now something one is tasked to do, instead of done out of true affection."

"The difference is that you run under the belief that you can love someone and be blind to their faults," Runa responds. "For all that I share your loyalty to Prince Thor, I wish to see him for what he is as more than a prince, but as a man. Perhaps you would benefit from doing the same."

"You say that as one who has denounced his supposed improved character with the rest of us."

"I have done no such thing. I merely expressed my disbelief that any revelations he may have had over the course of the passed few weeks could have been influenced by a mere mortal, and I stand by that. I instead believe that he found his way on his own, like the good man he always has been."

Throughout the whole conversation Runa has not once looked up from her work, and that alone is enough to make Svanhild want to evaporate the blood from her veins and tear apart the rest of her.

Mette has never moved from were she settled herself during Svanhild's initial brush with a full blown tirade, so when she clears her throat and raises her hand, she gets no attention and must speak louder than she'd wanted to.

"If I may, I think it's wonderful that Svanhild has so much love for our great prince. She has always been-"

"Mette please, you have no need to prostrate yourself before your elder and whatever she says," Runa says. "You need only know when _not_ to."

Mette nods her head furiously and turns away from them, too afraid even to apologize.

Not that either of the other two woman cared a mite for what she had to say. Runa was preoccupied with her work while Svanhild took pleasure in peering at her with a frigid gaze, daring another taunt to pass her lips. Runa will not be cowed though, much to Svanhild's chagrin.

"I can see that I am no longer wanted," she says.

Runa hums and turns another page. Mette has been struck mute and is hopeless. Svanhild wishes for a moment that their other sisters were present. Jannike and Øydis may harbor no more admiration for her than Runa did, but at least they knew when to keep their heads down and their mouths shut. It might have given Svanhild some peace to know that humility still existed in some.

She makes a show of leaving, her robes fluttering around her and her golden blonde hair a wave around her face. Wherever she goes, men have flocked to her. Today is no exception, as soldiers of both high and low ranking eye her as she passes and warmly greet her by name. Svanhild answers them all with the same neutral smile and nod, she doesn't know who any of them are. It would be quite amusing for them to find that the great and well-known sorceress they all wish to court has long since given her heart to another: and the crown prince of Asgard no less. Some day they will, on the day Prince Thor comes to realize that the only woman who could ever love him the way he deserves has been there at his back for centuries, waiting for the day he would turn around and see her.

Svanhild enters her chambers and throws aside her day clothing first thing. Clad in a simple white nightgown she sits upon her bed with no desire for sleep and shifts through the mess of parchment and books that have been laying on the opposite side for ages. Tidying up is such dull work to do on one's own, but the idea of some simple minded maid laying a hand on her work is a more ghastly concept than putting Loki on the throne.

With a flick of her wrist the books and loose parchment sort themselves into separate piles. The work is neat aside from a few loose corners and Svanhild must massage her wrists when it is done. She takes the parchment rolls first and reads to herself the title of the first one. It's an old espionage report from the third war with the dark elves. Why did she still have it after all this time? Svanhild takes the next one, another old assessment from a battle long since passed.

The third is the only one to evoke any sort of response: they are the plans she drew up for eliminating that nuisance of a mortal, Jane Foster. Svanhild smirks, skimming through the lines of incantations and runes. She puts it aside in a special spot to re-read later on and remember.

* * *

A satchel falls at Loki's feet while he's enjoying a late breakfast of leftover venison. Angrboda has been standing in front of him for some time before this, probably waiting for him to look up and ask what she wants. If so, she should have let him finish eating. As he's ripping another piece of meat off the bone the bag sags and spills a bit of it's contents out at his feet. He swallows.

"What is this?" He takes the slime covered scale in his hands and turns it over.

I THOUGHT YOU MIGHT NEED SOME MORE, BUT SINCE YOU HAVEN'T ASKED ME FOR ANY, I TOOK SOME PRE-EMPTIVE MEASURES.

Loki's lips part, releasing nothing but air as he switches back and forth between the satchel and Angrboda. For some reason, he doesn't feel so hungry anymore.

"That's... very good. Thank you. I will need these."

THERE'S MORE THAN JUST SCALES.

Loki stares at her, trying first to discern the meaning behind that tight-lipped gaze of hers, but there is nothing. Wordlessly, he reaches into the satchel and digs through the unsharpened edges of her scales until he finds something different. The feel of it is warmer than the scales and dryer. It has creases and a triangular frame that her scales cannot boast. The tip is pointed, as if he needed anymore confirmation that she's ripped out one of her teeth and given it to him.

He holds it to the light. It's wide enough that he can't wrap his whole hand around the thicker end and weighs at least several pounds. A mortal might have some trouble holding it like this.

"When did you have time to remove this?"

She moves her head from side to side, simulating a shrug.

IT WAS ALREADY LOOSE, SO TAKING IT OUT DIDN'T HURT THAT MUCH. EVEN IF IT HAD, IT'S A SMALL PRICE TO PAY FOR BECOMING HUMAN AGAIN.

Loki purses his lips as he turns it on every possible angle. At the top there are tiny, almost miniscule specks of blood and tissue. Again she thinks she can lie to him.

"Yes," he says. "I suppose it is."

She finds a comfortable spot in the cave to rest. That it's five feet away from his untouched work table is no coincidence. Loki licks his lips; he turns the tooth over on it's axis once more and then drops it back into the bag.

"I think I'll save this for later."

She gives an approving hum when he places all that she's given him beside his empty cauldron and scales. She rolls her long neck, removing all of the kinks, and then lays down. Her chin is pointed up and she's staring at him. Her eyes are soft, but he knows in his gut she's not going to close them or look away any time soon, and that's fine. He takes one scale from the bag. They're all mostly dry now, the moisture having hardened into a thin white film that cracks at the gentlest touch. Loki drops it in the cauldron, followed by four or five more. They all make a resounding plunk when they hit the empty bottom. Loki waves his hand and the cauldron fills an inch to the top with tap water.

"This may take some time," he says, eyes flicking to her. "And it's very dull work."

IT'S NOT I HAVE ANYTHING BETTER TO DO.

"Oh, that can't be. There must be some new trinket out there you have your eye on."

NOT AT THE MOMENT.

Loki purses his lips. He pulls a vial from his pocket that's filled with colored water and pours it in. Stirring it together creates a red sheen around the cauldron, and she looks on with decided interest.

"May I ask why?"

She looks surprised that he would ask. Loki can relate, he is too.

I JUST DON'T FEEL LIKE IT

Her tail flops down on the final letter; she's forgotten to punctuate. Loki respects her need for silence as his own as he puts on a show of experimentation and tests, never giving away anything positive or negative by way of expression. Let him keep her guessing. He takes his time with everything from setting up to eliminating the unusable. Hours pass and she surely must be growing tired. She never does, she is immobile. Loki is no more tired than she is, he could continue the game all night if he has to, but there is something to be admired in such determination and stoicism, especially when facing him.

As soon as he's had that thought he wishes he hadn't. His hands tighten automatically and nearly snap an entire scale in half. She sits there before him, impossible to miss, and something in her eyes and unchanging expression comes off as horribly smug, like she knows exactly what he's thinking and why.

Whether she does or she doesn't, this is no longer fun.

* * *

Being in the lab again is disorienting. Darcy feels dizzy even before she steps inside and sees the level of disarray the place has fallen into. The gaping hole in the roof is still there, covered by a blue tarp that is heavy with rain water. Fandral makes her walk around it just in case. The faded yellow tape has long been broken by vandals, graffiti covers up more than half of the big CONDEMNED sign taped to the window. The walls are in a similar state, with all kinds of crude drawings and vulgar language Darcy shouldn't be sensitive towards. This is _Jane's_ place, though, the place where she (sometimes) ate and (barely) slept and (constantly) worked and dammit, it deserves better than this.

Darcy had a lot of time to prepare for seeing this place again during the two and a half day drive, but still she feels an invisible wall in front of her whenever she takes a step. Dust is gathering at her feet and on her fingertips when she runs them along broken down equipment made by Jane's own hand. Those rotten ass SHIELD agents had descended upon the place a day after the attack, led by Mr. Personality himself, Agent Coulson. With him had been a redheaded woman in a black jumpsuit and some guy in archery gear (who was admittedly kind of hot, not that Darcy had been in the mood to flirt), obstinately for 'protection' in case something else showed up. Within twenty minutes, all of Jane's data had been carted away to Random SHIELD Secret Hideaway Place Number Two while Darcy could do nothing but shout it Coulson's face.

"You know it's been a day? A _day_ since she died? Don't you guys know you're supposed to wait a week out of respect?"

Coulson had been infuriatingly impartial to everything she said.

"Ms. Lewis, I understand that this is a time of major grief for you, and you have my condolences. That fact remains that Jane Foster's research is extremely important to us, and highly unstable. We need to bring everything to a controlled environment for Dr. Selvig to look over ASAP."

That was all Darcy could get out of the man. He wouldn't even give her Erik's new cell phone number so she could complain to him about it. He had to be taking this even worse than she was. Jane had been like a daughter to the single and childless Erik, and now she was gone. Thinking back, Darcy was sorry she hadn't tried harder to keep in contact with him, but if he was anything like Jane, he was working through the pain, literally. It might take years and whatever virility he had left, but he'd finish what Jane started. Darcy couldn't ask for anything more, except maybe for him to give that doucherocket Coulson a nice big fist in the face.

"Are you alright?" Fandral asks.

Darcy brushes him off and goes further in, careful to avoid the area below the tarp. What hadn't been taken by SHIELD agents or stolen by vandals to be pawned off for parts was dirty and looked like they'd aged ten years. She catches sight of a telescope Jane assembled for a failed experiment a week into Darcy's internship. Beside it is an old logbook, discarded for containing nothing of use. Darcy looked inside of it once and found an old love note from her ex, Donald Blake. It was unspeakably plain and unromantic and Darcy couldn't blame Jane for thinking him an uncommitted workaholic after reading it.

"There doesn't appear to be anything of value here," says Volstagg as he shifts through some rubble. He then looks apologetically at Darcy. "That is to say, I have not seen anything that might aid us in our quest."

Darcy waved it off. "Well, it was just a hunch."

She touched Jane's old worktable, now devoid of the many laptops and scanners Jane had once piled up on it.

"Come now, we have only begun to search," Fandral said, clapping his hands together. "What would Thor think if we left the scene of the attack without finding at least something of use?"

"He's right," Sif says. She wanders around the center of the room beneath the tarp, so far the only one to try it. She stares into space, going in circles that get smaller with each rotation.

"What's she doing?" Darcy hisses to Fandral out the corner of her mouth.

Sif stops in the middle of the room, getting to her knees with her hands flat on the ground. She traces an imaginary circle in the dirt, all the way around.

"There is magic here," she says.

She is met with silence, as assured with herself as she sounds. It might be presumptuous of her to say, but Darcy is without a doubt the most baffled of the bunch.

"What?"

Sif looks up at her, dead serious.

"In this room, I can feel that magic has been performed here."

If she expects that to explain everything, it doesn't. Fandral isn't providing much help, nor are Hogun and Volstagg (aside from the former nodding along with everything she says).

"Okay," Darcy says carefully. "So there's magic. You mean like that robot that destroyed everything? That kind of magic?"

"Not quite," says Sif. She lowers her ear to the floor and shakes her head. "No, this is something else. Something I can't quite pinpoint. It's faded, though. Whatever happened here, it was not recent. Several months at least."

Darcy feels an icy coldness drench her.

"Like maybe six months?"

Sif frowns, giving Darcy the kind of sympathetic face she's been seeing all along and if Sif wasn't a super powered alien goddess, Darcy might want to hit her for that.

"It's possible," she says after a beat. "Very possible in fact. I can't say for sure. My knowledge of magic is nowhere near Loki's level."

"If you look here," says Hogun as he gets down to the ground beside them, "there is a faint curved line in white."

He traces the line into a half circle, pressing the pad of his finger ever so lightly down. He brings it to his nose and sniffs, face scrunched up in deep thought.

"Chalk residue..." he determines. "The kind made in Asgard for magical purposes."

"Magical purposes?" Darcy cries. She starts pacing around the circle Hogun continues to draw out in the air. She can't be bothered to measure it, or note anywhere but in the back of her mind that it covers half of Jane's floor. "Like what? Like someone from Asgard came and did magic here? That's what you're telling me?"

"Well, for now it's just a theory," Hogun says, "until we have a better idea."

"That's great," Darcy says. Her legs are getting tired and her head hurts. She reaches around for a chair that she can't find. Then one is pushed up to her legs and Fandral stands over her with his big 'I'm the most charming dude in the universe so love me' smile.

"So lets brainstorm. What kind of magic was performed in here?"

"It's difficult to say," Volstagg says with a shrug of his shoulders. "But when we consider what has happened here, there is a chance someone on Asgard harbored a grudge against Jane Foster."

"That could very well be true," says Sif. She's abandoned studying the floor for now, leaving it to Hogun. She takes agile steps around him so that he isn't disturbed.

"I cannot imagine how someone could have slipped past Heimdall," says Fandral.

"It wouldn't be the first time," says Hogun softly. "Do not forget how the whole mess of Thor being banished began."

The four warriors give venomous sneers, which are nonetheless tempered by their hesitance to revile the one they are trying to save.

"I suppose if Loki could do it, anyone could," says Fandral.

"Not just anyone. It would require magic of the highest caliber, the kind very few possess," says Sif.

"But even that makes no sense," says Volstagg. "The only ones who could possibly have that kind of power aside from Loki are the five great sorceresses, but why would any of them do something like this?"

"Loki wouldn't," Sif mutters. "The scene is far too sloppy, too much has been left behind. If it were him, there wouldn't be a shred of evidence. We all know firsthand how meticulous he is."

"Which only leaves the sorceresses," says a pensive Fandral.

"Okay, hang on a second!"

Directly following Darcy's shout is the skittering of her chair falling on it's side. She is on her feet, something that probably won't intimidate these guys the way it does pimply faced Uni students. Before Fandral can ask if she's alright or anyone else can question her, she brings up her hands in a 'cease and desist' order.

"Let me get one thing straight: you guys are suggesting that someone from Asgard came here without anyone knowing and did... what?"

"That's why it's still a theory," mutters Hogun.

"But a sound theory nonetheless," says Sif. "We all know the unfortunate tendencies of our people to be blinded from goodwill by envy and greed, and it is no secret how the five sorceresses pine for Thor."

"One of them could have seen Jane Foster as a threat to their imagined claim," says Fandral, eyes going wide as it all comes together.

"I can see what appears to be runes drawn into this circle," says Hogun, though it's hard to tell since he has his face even more crushed into the ground than Sif had. "One of them resembles a teleportation charm. If so, that would explain how the dragon appeared so suddenly. We should take time to try and decipher them."

"So the assumption right now is that because Jane once macked on Thor, some psycho fangirl with magic powers came and set a dragon on her?"

"Do you think such pettiness beneath us?" says Fandral solemnly. "I wish I could say it was so, but we've had our share of drama in the courts."

"Just look at what happened to Lady Hessa," Volstagg puts in.

Darcy furrowed her brow. "Who's Lady Hessa?"

"She was a very wealthy and renowned noblewoman," explains Fandral after a beat. "She attended a banquet one night and made the mistake of boasting her dress to be of a finer quality than that of Lady Freya."

"Let's just say there is a reason your books contain no account of her," says Volstagg.

"I see," Darcy says, voice going flat. "Well, I'm hungry. I have had nothing but half a kit-kat bar and three gatorades since we left, and now I'm starving. Who's with me?"

"I!" shouts Volstagg, raising his fist like he's shouting a war chant. "I am absolutely famished."

"Knew you would be, big guy!" cries Darcy as she gives him a 'you're okay' gesture.

"I would prefer to stay here and keep working," Sif says, to which Hogun silently agrees.

Left with nothing to do, it isn't long before Fandral walks out after Darcy and Volstagg. A trio of little old ladies and a soccer mom with her two screaming kids are the audience as a college aged girl and two man of varying, yet considerable size and build in their medieval war day best walk down the street in a line. Darcy would love to tell them to take a picture, but it's not like she can blame them for staring.

"Izzy's place is right down the road, just re-opened," she says, directing them to the white, corner building up ahead. "And then we should think about getting you guys some clothes."

* * *

Loki sits before a kindling fire with Angrboda's latest kill roasting over it. The lack of wood isn't an issue when one has magic at their disposal, but she made sure to bring some back anyway, obstinately to take some of the burden off of him. All she really wants is to make sure he has enough to fix her, and why wouldn't she?

She's back following another hour of hunting, her shortest trip yet which bore no fruit except for what he is about to eat. She's has been rummaging through her junk pile ever since her return. It doesn't take long for Loki to understand that she's not looking for anything, she's just not talking to him. The only thing that bothers Loki more than her silence is that it bothers him at all.

"You must be getting bored of all these useless objects," he calls out. He waits for defensive growl and punishing smoke to hit his face, but it doesn't come. "I expected you to return with more of a bounty than this."

That gets her tail moving, though she maintains her vow not to meet his eye.

I'M THINKING ABOUT STARTING A NEW TOWER. I NEED TO FIND SOME EXTRA SPACE FOR IT.

"Do you?" Loki says as if he actually believes her. "Might I suggest taking what you already have an dividing it into two groups?"

WHAT WOULD THAT DO?

"Give you a better idea of how to organize your belongings for one," Loki says. "You might also avoid the threat of something toppling over due to your single towers rather alarming height."

THAT STILL DOESN'T SOLVE THE PROBLEM OF ACTUALLY FINDING SPACE FOR A SECOND PILE.

"I could save away one half in one my pockets. They are bottomless, you see."

BOTTOMLESS POCKETS? IS THAT EVEN POSSIBLE?

"For me it is," he replies with a grin. He notes the way her spine straightens and her eyes light up. It's a shame that she won't allow herself to ask any of the questions she has. There's a chance he would've answered.

"The only other thing I could suggest is to knock out a few walls to create more space," Loki says. "But I'm sure we both know how risky that would be."

WE COULD WIND UP BRINGING THIS WHOLE PLACE DOWN.

Loki nods. "Indeed."

He drops to the ground and she joins him, the unlikely pair sitting side by side by the fire. Loki leans his head up, eyes closed. The smell of cooking meat wafts off the flames, a mouth watering aroma that makes him want to forget about waiting the additional five minutes necessary to get just the right flavor. He is a patient man, though. He knows the benefits of waiting. Delayed gratification and all that.

To pass the time, he counts the number of scales visible on Angrboda's back. He's into the hundreds by the time she senses his eyes on her.

"What do you think of removing a few rock formations?" he asks offhandedly.

She hums.

"It's just a thought I had," he elaborates. "I could remove some of the larger and more obstructive ones and give you more space that way."

WHY DO YOU KEEP BRINGING THIS UP?

_'Why so aggravated about it?' _Loki mentally asks.

"Can I not have a friendly discussion with you that doesn't end in a brawl?"

I DON'T KNOW. CAN YOU?

"Don't get smart," he warns with no edge to it at all. He smiles coyly at her, not that she can see it.

WELL, AS MUCH AS I'VE ENJOYED TRADING DECORATING TIPS WITH YOU, I THINK YOUR RABBIT IS STARTING TO BURN.

The next ten or so minutes are spent trying and failing to fix the crispier portions of the meat. More is spent afterwards trying to simultaneously keep it down and maintain his dignity. Angrboda just makes her happy laughing grunts while she inspects her home for which rocks she wants to remove.

* * *

The calm of the desert is shattered by the light and winds of the bifrost. It lands like a cyclone on the ground and then fades away into air. Left in it's wake is a single-minded man whose goal is in sight.

This is the very place where Loki was taken. Thor silently thanks Heimdall for knowing just where to send him. His friends will be far away by now, but he'll find them in due time. He hates to admit it, but they are not important to him right now. Only Loki is. Finding him alive and granting the monster who captured him a slow and painful death is all that matters. Visions of the future be damned. He will make a happy future for Loki. He'll bring him home, make him see once more how loved he is, maybe he'll even leave the dragon's corpse intact so Loki can study it.

Thor walks against the wind, in the direction the dragon left in. He swings Mjolnir, letting it slowly gain momentum. Power flows from the mighty hammer to his body, propelling him into the air the way he should have let it that day. Now is his time to make up for his mistakes. All of them.

He'll have Loki back by first light.


	11. Chapter 8

Light rain cascades from deep gray clouds, thunder rumbles in the distance. Loki is for a moment concerned when he hears it, but the thunder is too quiet, too tame to be Thor's. He must be searching for him, much as Loki wishes he wouldn't. This is perfect weather for him too, so many dark clouds and storms at his command.

Even Angrboda is depressed. She lays herself out before the closed off gold stash, neither asleep or alert. Loki would leave her to it, except that's the exact spot he left her in when he went to sleep last night.

Still, he does nothing to rouse her. First he reheats his breakfast and finds a closed off space to undress and bathe himself in. When he comes back, she is unchanged, and Loki has nothing else to distract himself with. It's easy to imagine that he only cares because he'd be bored and craves conversation, one-sided as they have felt lately. It's even easier to think that he stays here in the first place because the alternative is completely out of the question and if he waits long enough, Odin will declare him dead and call off the search, leaving him free to do as he pleases. They're all true enough, so he can pretend that there is nothing else to it effortlessly. He never once considers just continuing to ignore her.

He strolls along the width of the cave to make it look like he's just stretching his legs.

"I've always found the rain to be relaxing myself," he says. "But I take it you disagree."

Angrboda side-eyes him, and nothing more. It's enough of an answer for Loki, who couldn't have expected any less. What little he knows of her true, human self tells him that she has no use for a sky that isn't clear, or sunny for that matter.

"Have you even eaten?"

LEAVE ME ALONE.

Loki shakes his head, unreleased laughter bubbling up in his chest.

"I see, you are exceptionally glum today," he says. "Forgive me if your mood is contagious, and I therefore seek to change it."

ALWAYS ABOUT YOU, ISN'T IT?

"Now that's not fair. I would not be here if I didn't wish to raise your spirits as well as my own."

OF COURSE YOU WOULDN'T.

Loki frowns.

"Do I detect a hint of sarcasm?"

I JUST WANT TO BE ALONE FOR A WHILE.

She shifts positions, actively turning her body all the way around and stuffing her head under the curtain. Loki sidesteps her tail; she misses him by an inch. He walks back around her and stops where her neck does. From this angle, she looks like she's been beheaded. It's the most creatively lazy way of playing dead he's seen in a while.

Is he supposed to assume she's too preoccupied with her gold to care about him? As priceless as those bars and coins must be, he doesn't know who she thinks she's fooling, and he doesn't know what makes her think he's going to just accept it and walk away. He was right about her when they first met. She knows nothing about him at all.

He chooses not to walk through the curtain just yet. Let her have a moment to think he's gone. He even takes several steps in place to create an illusion for her sensitive hearing. Then he sits with his legs crossed, picking up the heaving of her chest as it grows in volume. He disregards it for a time, but it soon becomes clear that something is wrong. She is sounding more and more like she's just run a marathon. Her scales are even shinier than usual. Is she capable of sweating?

Loki can't pretend he's not concerned anymore. Her legs are starting to shake, her claws flexing in and out at a quickening pace. Whatever is bothering her, being in there isn't helping. Loki shakes his head. He wishes he didn't have to do this.

"Angrboda?" he calls out. He hesitates to put his hand on her massive leg. She could kick out at anytime and dislodge his top half from the bottom. Indeed, his voice only seems to trigger her agitation.

"I do not wish to bother you when you wish for solitude," he says, which is partly true and not for the reasons he'd prefer. "But I must admit your current behavior is unsettling."

He hears scratching inside, loud and painful to the ears, like she's running her claws up and down the rock walls.

"Angrboda. I will not say it again. If something is wrong with you, I would like to know. Come out from there before I remove you myself."

Angrboda roars and leaps out of the curtain. Her wings are unfurled and one hits the top of her junk pile, sending bags toppling down. Loki places a shield around himself as an afterthought. Bits of rock bounce off it when Angrboda smacks herself against the wall. That human look of her eyes has never been more present, or filled with greater distress than they are now.

Loki drops the shield. He clicks his tongue as he observes the damage she has wrought. Her wall of musical instruments is intact for the most part, but one of the smaller ones starts to fall as soon as Loki looks up. A flick of his wrist and it floats back into place.

"Now what was that all about?" he demands.

He can practically see Angrboda's heart beating out of her chest as it rises and falls. She is visibly calming down, but he doesn't think for a second that she's alright.

"I know we spoke of redecorating, but this doesn't seem the way to go about it."

He steps on a plastic cup that's rolled out of a bag, flattening it. He whisks away more of the debris, either returning it to the bags or vanishing it if it's too old and broken up. Some of it looks like literal garbage and Loki cringes.

"Where did you get all of this? A landfill?"

Angrboda scowls, somewhat satisfying Loki. She_ is_ listening...

"Tell me what is wrong with you." It's not a question this time. Loki makes that abundantly clear with his next move. Out of his inner pocket comes a small vial of clear yellow liquid and a tiny packet of herbs.

"Do you know what these are?" He holds them high above his head. "They are specialized ingredients cultivated by myself on Asgard. They are used only for the most advanced magic. Using this, along with one of the scales I've procured from you, I can in less than an hour create a potion that will allow me to look inside your mind and know _exactly_ what you are thinking. Then you will have nothing to hide from me. Your mind will be an open book for me to peruse as I see fit."

He flashes a malicious grin, but she reacts to it as much as she does everything else he's said so far, which is to say she doesn't. It really lessens the effect he's going for and he doubts she's doing it on purpose. Somehow, that's the worst of it.

"I am giving you the opportunity to avoid drastic measures, and I suggest you take it. Now I will ask you one more time and one more time _only._"

The next time she sees him is on top of a ledge where he meets her eyes. It doesn't escape either of them that for once, he is looking down at her, and that he will take full advantage of it.

_"What. Is. Wrong. With. You?"_

He can wait as long as he needs to for an answer. He'll keep his vow not to ask again, but he'll stand here all night, follow her anywhere she goes, climb on her back if she tries to fly away and use a sticking spell to keep her from throwing him off until she yields. He's so determined that he makes no attempts to justify his actions as self-centered.

Angrboda must know this. There is no way after all this time that she doesn't. Still, they are frozen, a standoff of just the two of them and no weapons to speak of. Loki turns the little bottle over in his hand, rubbing at the rough edged stopper until it's almost smooth. He doesn't know how long he's been standing here, watching and waiting and having possibly gotten nowhere at all with her.

Then her tail moves. It's little more than a twitch, but it's better than a listless, glassy eyed expression.

"Angrboda?"

His voice is as gentle as he can make it. After all the threats he's left dangling over her head, tenderness will probably jar her, but it might also get her talking.

Her tail slides across the dirt, leaving a trail in it's wake that gets more pronounced as the sand pit deepens.

I WI-

She stops.

Loki leans over the ledge to read, his brow scrunched together.

"You what?"

Her tail pulls back an inch, only to return with renewed vigor.

I WISH I COULD TALK.

That isn't what he wants to see. It doesn't tell him anything except what has been clear from the start. She wants to talk? Of course she does! She wants to be humanity and everything that comes with it. He is kept from voicing these frustrations by his desire not to antagonize her any further and the fact that she is going on.

I MISS HAVING A VOICE. I DON'T THINK PEOPLE REALIZE HOW LUCKY THEY ARE TO HAVE ONE UNTIL THEY'RE SPENDING THEIR TIME WRITING OUT MESSAGES IN THE DIRT.

"A pen would be more efficient," Loki says.

She makes that grunt- laugh sound of hers and Loki's lips briefly turn up.

YEAH, YOU NEED HANDS FOR THAT. AND THAT'S ANOTHER THING PEOPLE DON'T APPRECIATE ENOUGH: OPPOSABLE THUMBS.

Loki nods in agreement, at a loss to do anything else.

"You would know that better than most."

I WISH I DIDN'T.

She comes away from the wall. Loki steps off the ledge and floats to the ground to follow her. She uses her claw now to write, her words coming out more neatly.

SOME PEOPLE SAY IGNORANCE IS BLISS. I DON'T THINK THIS KIND OF THING IS WHAT THEY MEANT, BUT IT STILL FITS PRETTY WELL. I'D LOVE TO GO BACK TO SCREAMING MYSELF HOARSE AT STUPID OLD COLLEGE PROFESSORS AND GIVING MYSELF CARPAL TUNNEL WRITING OUT FIFTY PAGE DISSERTATIONS THAT NO ONE READS, JUST SO THAT I COULD BE ME AGAIN. THE REAL ME, NOT THIS THING THAT I AM NOW.

She adds one more line underneath, a remarkable feat given how big and disorganized her writing has become.

I JUST CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE.

It's taking all her energy to write this. Loki knows this when she's writing that final e and her claw drags off into a tangent. She is bent over the sand, the picture of fragility. She's big enough to touch the ceiling if she wished, but one could almost forget. It's pathetic on an objective level, and Loki would sneer at her. To be so weak for such a flimsy reason, to give in to pain and torment oneself with the past when they have the power she does. Loki has seen her, he's seen what she can do even without magic. Her potential for destruction is immeasurable. She is not something to be done any with like a mere pest, and Loki is hard-pressed to believe that there is no one on this planet in a position of power who doesn't want her for his own gains.

And yet what comes to him before anything else is pity. He feels for her in a way he can't yet explain. It is too much too soon. He's counted the days since his capture. They don't even equal a week. He is not a soft-hearted person, not for strangers, and certainly not for people who kidnap and try to control him, motive notwithstanding. Even now, the bitter rage that his simmered under the radar remains. He can feel it in that single sweet moment that he considers using her vulnerability to his advantage. If he ended her now, she might not lift a finger to stop him. Her words imply as much. The deeper meaning hovers above them in transparency. If she has given up on a cure, and wishes now for a quicker solution to her plight, one that so perfectly coincides with his original plans for her, he should have no trouble carrying it out.

It's funny how much his dislike for her is shifting in a new direction, hand in hand with the new cause of his offense. How long has she kept this to herself and let it eat away at her strength and resolve? This can't possibly be the woman who so enamoured Thor that he would throw down his life to avenge hers. He shouldn't even bother wondering. He could be using his time more productively, like planning his escape. Some other, more instinctive and less logical side of him says different, and it is very persuasive.

This time, he sits with his legs crossed when he goes to her. He has no intention of moving from this spot, come hell or high water. She cannot ignore him forever.

She doesn't either, hard as she tries. There is nothing she can do to push him away. The whole point of their impromptu battle of wits is that she pay his persistence no mind. She could turn away, but even that would show that she knows he is there and it affects her. Her only choice is to stay where she is and turn a blind eye to him, but she can't do that either. In her heart of hearts, she doesn't want to. Of that, Loki is sure. He wouldn't want to either.

"What happened to you before?" His voice echoes more than usual, or maybe he's just now noticing the silence. "Angrboda, why were in such a panic? I have never seen you like that before, and I want an explanation."

She sighs, expounding more smoke from her nostrils, and even that comes out lethargically.

DOES IT MATTER?

"Yes," he answers bluntly.

She engages him in a brief stare-off, just for the sake of it. She knows that he isn't going to let her out of this. Resigned, she blows the sand smooth and begins to write. She is much more precise this time, and faster. It's a big message that she's writing out. Loki would like to read it as she goes along, but he thinks this is something he should wait for.

It takes her over an hour to finish. The number of lines is longer than the length of his body, and the writing is small. She stands aside for him to read, going over to the wall for a long awaited moment alone. Loki's mind lingers on her, all shut away from him at the back of the cave. At least she's not in the curtains again. He's tempted to transmorph the fabric into unbreakable iron and bar her from it permanently. Maybe later.

He starts to read.

I HOPE YOU KNOW THIS ISN'T EASY FOR ME TO TALK ABOUT, LET ALONE WRITE ABOUT.

Loki nods. Mentally, he re-reads her assertions of humankind's disregard of their natural privileges before going on.

THE TRUTH IS, I'VE BEEN DEALING WITH A LOT MORE THAN I'VE LET ON SINCE BECOMING THIS. I DON'T KNOW NEARLY AS MUCH ABOUT DRAGONS AS YOU DO, ONLY WHAT IS COMMON KNOWLEDGE. THE HOARDING AND GREED AND FIRE-BREATHING, THOUGH I'VE NEVER QUITE REACHED THAT LAST ONE (THERE HAVE BEEN CLOSE CALLS). THE FIRST TWO ARE ANOTHER STORY, BUT YOU KNEW THAT.

Loki casts a glance at the junk pile.

IF I HAD MY WAY, I WOULDN'T HAVE ANY OF THESE THINGS. ONLY WHAT I TOOK TO TRY AND LEARN MORE ABOUT WHAT HAPPENED TO ME. I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT'S IN THAT GARBAGE HEAP. THAT'S WHERE I GOT MOST OF IT, BY THE WAY. I RAID GARBAGE DUMPS WHENEVER I GET THE URGE.

Loki smirks at his suspicions being confirmed. It's tempered somewhat by the context of the revelation. There's also the matter of this 'urge' she's mentioned. He's never heard of that.

I'M GUESSING NOW YOU WANT TO KNOW WHAT I MEAN BY URGES.

Loki's lips pucker, blowing air out his nose like she does smoke. It's a minor correct guess on her part, and an easy conclusion to come to. It's being predicted that he doesn't like.

IT GOES BACK TO THE HOARDING. I DID NOT JUST START TAKING THINGS FOR FUN OR BECAUSE I THOUGHT IT WAS WHAT I WAS SUPPOSED TO DO AS A DRAGON. EVER SINCE I TURNED, I'VE FELT THIS ACHE IN MY CHEST THAT CAN ONLY BE FILLED BY THINGS. THAT'S THE ONLY WAY I CAN DESCRIBE IT BECAUSE THERE'S NOTHING SPECIFIC THAT I WANT ASIDE FROM GOLD. I JUST NEED TO HAVE A ROOM FULL OF WHATEVER I CAN FIND AND IF SOMETHING GETS IN MY WAY, I HAVE TO DO EVERYTHING IN MY POWER TO STOP IT. THAT'S WHY I GO FOR DUMPS AND PLACES LIKE THAT WHERE NO ONE WILL MISS WHATEVER I TAKE.

IT'S WORKED FOR ALL THIS TIME, BUT THE IMPULSE IS GETTING STRONGER. I ONLY STARTED TAKING GOLD RECENTLY, WHEN EVERYTHING ELSE BECAME LESS AND LESS SATISFACTORY TO... WHATEVER IT IS THAT'S DRIVING ME. IF YOU HAVE A NAME FOR IT, BY ALL MEANS, LET ME KNOW.

SORRY, I'M GETTING OFF TOPIC NOW.

_'Indeed,'_ Loki thinks, keeping it at that for now so he can think about her query later.

LET ME JUST GET RIGHT TO THE POINT: I'M SCARED OF WHAT IS HAPPENING TO ME.

IT'S MORE THAN JUST AN AVERAGE FEAR, IF THAT'S WHAT YOU'RE THINKING. I DON'T JUST LOOK LIKE A DRAGON, I'M ACTING LIKE ONE. THE LONGER I STAY IN THIS FORM, THE MORE I FEEL LIKE I'M GOING TO LAPSE INTO SOME KIND OF PRIMAL STATE AND NEVER COME BACK TO MYSELF AGAIN. I'VE WOKEN UP ON TOP OF THAT GOLD STASH MORE TIMES THAN I CAN COUNT. THAT'S WHY I HAD TO COVER IT WITH A CURTAIN IN THE END. I STILL NEED TO GO IN THERE SEVERAL TIMES A DAY JUST TO LOOK AT IT AND CALM MYSELF DOWN, BUT IF IT'S IN PLAIN SIGHT IT'LL TRIGGER THE RESPONSE EVEN WORSE. THE TRUTH IS I DON'T REMEMBER HALF THE BATTLES I'VE HAD WITH THE MILITARY. I KEEP IN MY RIGHT MIND ENOUGH NOT TO PROVOKE THEM, BUT IT'S GETTING HARDER AND HARDER TO AVOID RETALIATING WHEN THEY ATTACK ME. I HAVE TO GET AWAY AS FAST AS I CAN. LUCKILY, MOST PEOPLE ON EARTH AREN'T LIKE YOU OR YOUR BROTHER. THEY CAN ONLY FOLLOW ME IN FIGHTER JETS.

Loki skims the next few lines. He feels no remorse in it, it's all just more of what he's already seen through Heimdall's eyes. She evades the fighter jets, as she calls them, by the simple means of being faster than them at her top speed. At her fastest, it was a struggle even for his own eyes to follow her. She's like a paper thin purple line sticking out in an all blue and white sky, and that doesn't even factor in the sheer impossibility of seeing her during the night.

THIS ALL MUST SOUND PRETTY EXCITING SO FAR.

_'Only if you can't read between the lines.'_

BUT I'M LOSING MYSELF, LOKI. I BARELY KNOW WHO I AM ANYMORE. EVERY MORNING I WAKE UP, I'M TERRIFIED THAT I'M GOING TO BE BACK IN THAT STUPID GOLD LIKE IT'S DRUG AND I'M THE ADDICT. I RECITE MY NAME AND MY JOB AND MY PARENTS NAMES OVER AND OVER AGAIN SO THAT I KNOW I HAVEN'T FORGOTTEN THEM, THAT MY MIND IS STILL MY OWN AND NOT A MONSTER'S. I FEEL LIKE ONE DAY, IT REALLY WILL BE, AND THAT'S THE WORST OF IT. EVEN MORE THAN LOSING MY OLD LIFE AND KNOWING THAT MY FRIENDS ALL THINK I'M DEAD. MY MEMORIES OF THEM ARE ALL I HAVE LEFT. I CAN'T LOSE THAT. I'D RATHER DIE.

It's incredible that she's able to stay so articulate at this point. Loki can only think she's expounded all the will she had to be passionate. For all that what she writes is expressive, there is a hollowness that can't be ignored.

TELL ME THE TRUTH NOW, LOKI: YOU CAN'T CHANGE ME BACK INTO A HUMAN, CAN YOU?

Loki freezes. Entirely.

DON'T STOP READING HERE AND TELL ME I'M WRONG. I DON'T LIKE TO BE LIED TO OR HANDLED. I'VE DEALT WITH ENOUGH OF THAT IN MY LIFE, FROM MY FAMILY AND FROM MY COLLEAGUES AND I DON'T NEED IT FROM YOU. I DON'T KNOW IF YOU'RE REALLY STILL TRYING TO HELP ME OR IF YOU'RE JUST PLAYING ME FOR A FOOL, AND I DON'T CARE. I REALLY DON'T. I JUST WANT YOU TO BE HONEST WITH ME. TELL ME UPFRONT THAT I'M STUCK THIS WAY FOREVER AND THEN I WANT YOU TO GO. I SHOULD NEVER HAVE BROUGHT YOU HERE IN THE FIRST PLACE. IT WAS STUPID AND DESPERATE OF ME, NOT TO MENTION COMPLETELY IMMORAL.

SO THAT'S IT. NOW YOU KNOW EVERYTHING. DO WHATEVER YOU WANT TO FROM HERE, JUST PLEASE, PLEASE-

LEAVE ME ALONE.

She's written that final phrase bigger than the rest, with deeper lines and finer details. He should have noticed it first thing, but he willfully ignored the way it stood out until he was finished. Now that he is, he doesn't know what to think.

No, that's not true. There are a lot of thought cluttering up his mind at the moment, it's just that only a few of them are pragmatic enough to be useful. Everything else is just nonsense that he shouldn't be bothered by, but she just keeps pushing him further in that direction, every single day.

She's told him outright to leave. She's told him indirectly that she doesn't care if he sends someone back to take her head or does it himself. Those two simple facts are the deciding factor for what his next move will be. A heavy dose of pragmatism sprinkled with nonsense may be just what she needs right now.

He sees he in the corner, she doesn't want to watch him leave. It's hardly wide enough to contain her girth. In spite of her most fervent efforts, the tip of her tail sticks out, and with his boot, Loki tucks it in for her. There is no sign that she is conscious, only that her heavily lidded eyes attain a certain glow in the darkness. Those irises that prove her humanity have never been so alight with pain, the pain of someone who is cast aside by a cruel world with no one to care for her. Her life has been ripped from her, her worldview shattered. Everything gone in the blink of an eye and she's left with only her suffering.

And yet she's never willingly caused anyone harm for it, deserving or otherwise.

It hits Loki like a brick wall and leaves a bitter taste in his mouth that doesn't go away for hours.

"So," he says, following what has to be the longest silence that has ever passed between them. "I'm glad you are finally comfortable enough to share all of this with me."

Her tail slides out of hiding and makes a straight line in the sand. Then she adds a half triangle on top. It points to the entrance.

"You should know that in spite of my reputation as a liar, I take matters such as this very seriously."

Her tail rises up to jab at the entrance, and at Loki's face inadvertently. The friendly smile he has worn for her benefit melts into a frown, and a sense of resignation that has him sighing regretfully.

"Well, alright, we'll do it the hard way."

Loki waves his hand. The thick wall of boulders that shield Angrboda from him explode into a million pieces, and Angrboda is paralyzed.

The magic holding her down leaves a light green tint on her skin that clashes with the natural color. Her face is frozen in perpetual shock, eyes bugged out and still capable of sight. Loki presses his hand into her chest, checking for an erratic heartbeat that would mean he'd have to remove the curse and try something else in the split second interval he was bound to have before she shook herself off and attacked him. Luckily, she takes well to the spell, there have been no adverse effects on her body. Loki nods approvingly. So far, she's as strong as he hoped. Now it's time for the real test.

Loki walks around her, guiding the bits of shattered rock ahead of him to form a small mound before her feet. It grows bit by bit, forming a solid rectangular structure several inches off the ground. Loki places one foot down on it, his weight sinking it in halfway. The next step rises at it's back, higher than the first, and much sturdier. One by one, Loki pieces his staircase together. He reaches the top with his hands behind his back. The excess sand bursts and falls away, leaving a narrow column for him to stand on.

"Forgive the theatrics," he says to her. "I'm afraid I've found it much easier to speak to you like this, without having to injure my neck to see your face. That aside, it's better when talking about important matters, as we now must."

There is not a single part of Angrboda's body that is capable of movement, and yet he swears he sees her claws protracting.

"Now, as you've no doubt surmised, I have read your lovely little sob story in full and have a few things to say about it."

He pauses a second or two. It's good for driving up tension.

"First and foremost... I am disappointed in you, Angrboda. Very disappointed."

He stops one more time to let that sink in. He won't be doing it again, so he hopes she's listening carefully.

"In the past week that I have known you, my opinion of you has made several leaps and bounds. My first impression of you was that you were a most mysterious creature, albeit not an intelligent one. When I finally met you, I daresay you earned my contempt quite early on, as I earned yours in turn. It's not very good for a working relationship, is it? But I digress.

"What I hope you glean from this is how my feelings have changed in the past few minutes, and what it means. I have been loathed to admit it until now, but I can no longer say I harbor the ill will towards you I did in the beginning. This must come as a great surprise to you, so do not misunderstand me, I am not saying that I like you. It is more like... a fondness that one might have for an acquaintance after being forced into close quarters with them for a period of time. I cannot pin a single phrase to it, but needless to say, I do not hate you as you do me.

"So when I say I am disappointed in you, what I mean is that you are not living up to your potential in any form, and that is something that offends me at the highest level. You should take a look at yourself sometime when you are flying low over a river, and realize how truly remarkable you are. You are something that only comes around once in a lifetime, and here you are treating it like it's something to be ashamed of. You have let your fears and anxieties get the better of you."

He shakes his head, as his magic ties into the spell he's weaved around her.

"After everything we've been through, all the times you've shown me your strength, I really expected more from you than this. It's such a pity."

He pulls and now the spell is broken. Angrboda lets out the screech that's been trapped in her throat and Loki smiles.

"Ready to prove me wrong?"

She pounces. He sees it coming and doesn't evade. Her body presses his into the ground, and when the dust clears all he sees are her foot-long white teeth. They are inches apart, dripping with saliva. Warm breath hits his face. She isn't growling or roaring or anything else yet. From this position, Loki can see nothing but those teeth and that black hole of a mouth.

She draws in a hard breath and roars, so loud that the remaining stalactites that have held on through all their previous fights finally give in to the strain. Some of them smash into Angrboda's back and are shaken off, the rest crash down all around them. She rears back when it's over. Going on all fours, she lets him sit up, the two of them locked in an intense, yet silent, battle of wills. Who will speak (or write) first? Who will look away?

Her wings are coming unfurled. Loki hopes she doesn't plan to spread them in such a narrow enclosure. Her tail starts to move beneath her legs, whipping this way and that while the rest of her is as still as if he'd never removed the spell at all. Then it stops abruptly. Her teeth are bared, but her eyes lack the burning rage Loki has come to know. There was something else there now. Something less like a snarl and more like a grin.

She whips around in the air, generating a powerful wind. Loki sees that coming too, dipping back to avoid it. She lifts into the air and bolts out, like a bullet from a gun. Within seconds, she is a tiny speck on the horizon, leaving Loki alone to a terrible mess and one final note. Loki brushes dust off his front and shakes even more of it out of his hair. He's going to have to wash it again, but first, he reads her note.

BE BACK SOON. THANKS, LOKI.

He smiles. "You're welcome."

He goes back to the place he bathed in the last time, stripping his heavy armor and lighter underclothes. A stream of his own creation pours water down his back and front, the heat adjusted to perfection. A light steam rises as the water burns his skin and soothes his sore muscles. It's been an eventful day for sure.

It's very interesting, everything Angrboda told him. The natural instincts she describes are completely in line with the stories he and countless other Asgardian children were told. He must begrudgingly give the tellers their kudos then, after thinking them blowhards for so long. The greed, the hoarding, the gold stash. It's all exactly as the stories said.

Perhaps too much so.

Loki's eyes snap open. As the thought hits him a million others are created from it, along with a single image from his memory that turns his stomach and makes him nearly giddy in the strangest way.

Angrboda returns shortly thereafter. Seems she just wanted a quick flight around the desert if she's back so soon. Loki is at his work desk, at least half of his private library out and stacked up all around him. He's flipping through a massive transfiguration text and nods when he sees her.

"I had an idea while you were away," he says. "Don't count yourself out yet, my dear.

She doesn't know what to make of this, but Loki has nothing more to say. He has too much work to do and so little time to do it in. He can't risk losing any important ingredients to exposure, so she's going to have to wait.

And wait she does. Angrboda is his audience as he chops and mixes and stirs, and all the many components come together to form what could become the answer to everything. He will know in just another day, and until then, why not keep her in suspense? Loki is not call mischievous for nothing.

"Just a little while longer," he says vaguely the third time she asks, unbothered by the way she crosses her arms childishly in response.

She keeps to herself from there, until night falls and it's become abundantly clear that he won't be finishing up tonight.

YOU KNOW, THERE IS STILL THE PROBLEM OF MY URGES.

"What about them?" Loki asks distractedly.

WHAT DO YOU MEAN, WHAT ABOUT THEM? I TOLD YOU THEY'RE GETTING STRONGER.

Loki has been stirring the cauldron as she writes (counterclockwise five times, clockwise three time, counterclockwise another three times, repeat until the mixture is beige in color). He has just enough time to skim over her words while the other pot is boiling over.

"Have you thought of finding a more positive direction to channel it in?" he asks.

She looks like she would laugh if she could.

WHAT COULD EVER BE POSITIVE ABOUT STEALING GOLD?

"Well, where did you get what you already have?"

JUNK SHOPS MOSTLY, AND A BUNCH OF THOSE SCRAP GOLD PLACES. IT'S NOT LIKE ANYONE WILL MISS THOSE.

Loki pours one solution into another, shielding his eye from the inevitable explosive reaction, and he thinks it all over.

"Perhaps then you should find someone who is either wealthy enough that he would not miss a little gold or someone so deplorable that they do not deserve to have it in the first place."

WHAT DO I LOOK LIKE TO YOU, ROBIN HOOD?

"I don't know who that is."

He goes back to work when she doesn't write again. He's more than halfway done when she suddenly gets up and spreads her wings.

"Where are you going now?"

She stays just long enough to scrawl out a message with her claw before leaving him again. Loki grumbles as he walks to where she just stood, but when he reads what she wrote, a smirk tugs at his lips.

I HAVE SOME THINGS TO DO. BACK IN THE MORNING.

He has a feeling it's going to be a very eventful night for her.

* * *

Darcy bites into her breakfast burrito. It burns her tongue and her throat in the best way possible. This was the meal she missed most after leaving Puente Antiguo. It's hard to find foods that are both delicious and sufficiently greasy elsewhere.

"Aren't you going to eat?" she asks Fandral. His own breakfast of pancakes and syrup is untouched, aside from the little bits he's taken off the edges.

"I'm not overly fond of sweet foods," he explains.

"Give them to me, then!" Volstagg says. He stabs his short stack through with his fork and eats the whole thing in one bite. If Darcy could stand to look, she'd be impressed.

"Geez, you eat more than Thor did," she mutters.

Fandral hears her and snorts. "You don't know the half of it."

He wordlessly passes his plate to Volstagg, who happily devours it. Izzy, in her little apron and therapy shoes comes over to take their plates.

"My compliments to the chef!" Volstagg booms at her.

Izzy smiles. "Gracias, I'll let them know."

She leaves Darcy with the bill. Darcy thumbs a depressingly thin wad of bills for the single ten she has. She'll need the ATM later, once they've checked in with Sif and Hogun. The two of them have been up with those runes since yesterday morning, trying to find their hidden meaning. So far, Darcy has been able to distract herself with failed attempts at finding normal clothes for these guys (nothing fit Volstagg and Fandral almost starting a brawl with an employee whose hand 'accidentally' brushed Darcy's ass), and driving around the desert. At least one of them always accompanied her, usually Fandral, so she could definitely do worse for companionship.

Truthfully, she's getting anxious. This is the fourth day since she threw her lot in with them. Another day of no progress was not something she could afford. She could only pretend to be sick for so long before her grades began to suffer or someone sent a doctor after her.

"You think they've got something yet?" she asks no one in particular.

"Hopefully," Volstagg says as he daps a napkin over his mouth. "I'll admit to feeling a bit restless being in one place for so long. The dragon could have moved a hundred times since our arrival."

"I doubt it," says Fandral. "Actually, it seems fairly quiet since it's capture of Loki."

"No doubt he's tamed the beast and made a mount of it by now."

Darcy forces a smile. She picks at the remaining shell of her burrito while a couple of truckers the next table over mess with their CV radio, creating a high level of static that makes her head pound.

_'Can't they do that later?'_

A voice then emits from the radio, loud and clear and artificially cheery like a news anchor is meant to be.

"-the dragon was circling Hammer Industries for almost a quarter of an hour before descending on the place. Former Hammer Industries CEO Justin Hammer has spent the last several months in jail for aiding and abetting Russian terrorist, Ivan Vanko. Reports show that company headquarters and Hammer's private residence were ransacked by the dragon, ending in approximately 20 million dollars of property damage and stolen goods. Since then, there have been several more sightings of the dragon around the homes of other infamous figures. At the moment, it is unknown if anyone else has been robbed or if the dragon plans to return for more-"

One of the truckers bumps the table on his way to the bathroom and the transmission is lost, but that pretty much said it all. So the dragon is robbing criminals and rotten ass rich people now.

How 'bout that?


	12. Interlude 3

DRAGON SIGHTINGS FIRE UP EAST COAST

by Gerald Fisher

Folks in New York have some exciting new news to spread: the dragon has finally branched out from the midwest and is traveling eastward. Sightings from at least five northeastern states have given scientists and military personnel a rough outline of the dragon's course. Its flight began in South Carolina, where it was spotted several times between 11 pm and 11:30. It was later seen in North Carolina and Virginia, only to fall off the radar until the early morning hours, when it appeared over downtown Manhattan. It later pulled off one of the most stunningly daring robberies in American history, making off with millions of dollars in cash and property belonging to former Hammer Industries CEO, Justin Hammer. Hammer, who is currently on trial for treason was unavailable for comment. A representative informed us that he is aware of the situation and plans to press charges against the security team responsible for guarding his home. More on that situation as it develops.

Following the theft, the dragon was seen one final time flying low over the Atlantic ocean, carrying an enormous sack of stolen goods in it's claws and another between its teeth.

* * *

"...and we're here live on the scene of the Hammer Industries robbery. Just a few moments ago, federal agents arrived via helicopter to take over the situation from the NYPD. Firemen were also here earlier to take care of a few small fires that broke out due to fallen power lines, and current evidence points to zero human fatalities, which is good news for all of us. If you can see behind me, the NYPD is just packing up to leave, and oh- excuse me, sir! Sir? Are you one of the agents? Can I just get a quick word?"

"No comment."

"I'd just like to know what your opinion is on the situation. Are you planning a counterstrike against the dragon?"

"No comment."

"Are you with the FBI? Is the CIA getting involved? Wait, please just-!"

"Please stay behind the yellow tape, or I'll have to ask you to leave. You're interfering with a highly sensitive investigation."

"Oh come on, would you just give me_ something?_ We're on National TV!"

"Agent Barton, the camera please."

"Yes, sir."

"Hey you can't do tha-"

_**bzzzzzzz...**_

* * *

DRAGON DISCUSSIONS DRAG ON

by Charlotte Matisse

As the continuing adventures of what many are calling 'America's First Dragon' captivate the hearts and minds of millions, the same can also be said for the mystery of it's impact on American life. With the latest development, more and more American citizens are coming out in favor of the dragon's actions, calling it 'a harbinger of karmic justice upon the frivolous and greedy one percent.' Others are not so enthusiastic, believing that the dragon does not have the capacity to understand the implications of it's crimes. They feel that Justin Hammer will not be the first victim of theft, that the dragon could very well begin stealing indiscriminately from both the rich and the poor.

Of note was former Stark Industries CEO, Tony Stark, who provided commentary of his own on the matter during a press conference last week. Mr. Stark was quoted as follows:

'I think it's abundantly clear that this is either just a one time deal, like the dragon was bored of flying over clouds and freaking people out with it's shadow and wanted something a little more interesting to do with it's time, or it's chosen to become some sort of vigilante going after the cruel and the heartless of the world right where it hurts them most: their wallets.

'I mean, it's entirely possible that all those party-pooping naysayers are right and the dragon really will take whatever from whoever, but personally, I like to give the benefit of the doubt. On that note, if the dragon is beyond all speculation to the contrary intelligent and watching this, let me just tell you about this one guy, Aldrich Killian. He's rich too and _really_ shifty. I think he's up to something. So if you're looking for a suitable candidate for a repeat performance, you know, there's a suggestion."

Of course, this paper does not in any way endorse Mr. Stark's comments. All views and opinions published by this paper are not those of the editors unless otherwise stated.

As of yet, the dragon has made no move to attack any other estate or business. Only time will tell if this marks a whole new chapter in the story of America's First Dragon.

* * *

This is Action News at 11.

Good evening everyone. Kent Tucker here. Well, I shouldn't have to tell you the latest news on our friendly neighborhood dragon as you're probably reading all about it in the paper as we speak.

It should come as no surprise to anyone that with the dragon's new foray into marauding, the US Military is cracking down. Previous initiatives to exterminate the dragon were put on hold earlier this month following protests from various animal rights groups, calling such laws unconstitutional and blatant acts of animal cruelty. While deliberations raged, the military was forced into a standstill. With this new turn of events, I think it's safe to say that the scales are tipping in their favor. With us today to discuss the matter is Colonel James Rhodes of the US Air Force, whom you may know as Iron Patriot. Colonel Rhodes, thank you for joining us."

"My pleasure, Kent."

"Now, Colonel Rhodes, what can you tell us about current situation? What are your plans for dealing with the dragon?"

"Well Kent, we've taken the issue of this so-called 'American Dragon' very seriously. From the very beginning- when the dragon directly caused the deaths of Maria Christian and Dr. Jane Foster- we have considered the dragon a major enemy of freedom and the American Dream. Our fight has been stalled for some time by the efforts of well meaning yet uninformed radical groups attempting to protect the dragon, but we do not feel that this is a matter that can be ignored for much longer. Currently, we do not have a plan of attack, but the Secretary of Defense has been meeting with the Lieutenant General to discuss possible courses of action. We hope to have something by the end of the week."

"Uh huh, and what about those radical groups? Do you plan to form- some kind of compromise to appease them?"

"At this point, the most we can promise is that the dragon will suffer as little as possible."

"I see. And now, if you don't mind a slightly more personal question, I understand that you are a close friend of Tony Stark. Do you have anything to say regarding Mr. Stark's comments at his most recent press conference?"

"...yeah, stop giving him those."

"Haha. Well at this time, we will begin taking your calls. If you have a question for Colonel Rhodes, call us at 1-800-4DRAGON. Now let's have that first caller. Can you introduce yourself?"

"I'm Abby Coe and I'm from Boston. I would first just like to thank Colonel Rhodes for all that he has done for this country as Iron Patriot. You're an inspiration to us all, Colonel."

"Thank you, that's very kind of you."

"I was wondering if you knew whether or not the dragon's remains would be kept for study. I'm a biology major specializing in reptiles and I want so badly to know what makes it tick, so to speak."

"I can understand that. Well Abby, I'm afraid I'm not at liberty to discuss the government's plans for the dragon once it has been taken out, however if I may speak off the record, I don't think any more than you do that they're just going to toss the corpse in an incinerator and call it a day, so keep your eyes open."

"Alright, let's take another caller now. Caller, you are on the air."

"Yeah hi, I just wanted to tell Colonel Rhodes that he and all his corporate government puppet friends out there that you can kiss my fat, pimply ass if you think we're going to let you and your filthy guns anywhere near that majestic creature. How dare you even think about torturing and killing it for your own sick pleasure while you stuff your faces with dirty Republican money, you slimy shit faced cu-"

**_click_**

"Ah- we apologize for that, both to our viewing audience and you as well, Colonel."

"Don't worry, I'm used to it."

"You think we can take one more?"

"Go for it."

"Caller... for better or worse, you're on the air."

"Come on, Kent, you know things are _always_ better when I'm around. Hey RHODEY! I'm watching you on TV instead of the other way around for once. Cool, huh?"

"Tony? What are you doing on this line?"

"Uh... Mr. Stark-"

"Hang on a minute Kent, hang on. I won't tie up the line, I just wanted to let my buddy Rhodey know that I just got through scheduling another press conference, you know that thing you were saying I shouldn't have? Anyway, it's going on tomorrow and I'm going to tell them all those fun stories about Tijuana and you with the goat herders and-"

"Ah, I'm really sorry Kent, I'm going to have to cut this short. There are some very important personal matters that I'm going to have to deal with now."

"Of course Colonel Rhodes, thank you for joining us."

"You're welcome Kent."

"See ya soon, Rhodey!"

_"Tony..."_

"This is DragonWatch on Action News at 11 now cut. Toby, cu-"

* * *

DIGGING A MOAT: AMERICA PREPARES FOR DRAGON ATTACKS

by Kara Edwards

It's been a week since America's First Dragon pulled off it's most biggest spectacle yet. Justin Hammer's private residence and company headquarters robbed and ransacked while the man himself sits in a jail cell awaiting trial. The incident has businessmen, company CEOs and politicians alike up in arms, ready to defend their homes from a dragon invasion.

Insurance companies have instituted a special policy in the event of an attack that will cover ninety percent of the damages incurred, and rumor has it that anti-dragon security systems are in development. They would include a reinforced, retractable metal shield to protect the home and surrounding property, as well as small, motion detecting missiles should the need to go on the offensive arise. As the ethics and legality of such a system are questionable at best, major security companies are remaining mum on the subject, but that will not ever stop people from talking.

Anti-dragon proponents are lobbying harder than ever for the use of aggressive force as pro-dragon activists triple their efforts to silence them. Congress has recently declared that the military would be re-deployed, and many see this as the final nail in the coffin for both the dragon and its many supporters. Will our next glimpse of it be on a pyre instead of in the air? Only time will tell.

* * *

"PRO-DRAGON RALLIES CONTINUE

by Patrick Martha

With the military breathing down the neck of America's First Dragon, animal rights organizations and pro-dragon activists are joining forces to organize one huge citywide protest. Scheduled to take place from noon to midnight on November 30th in the heart of Manhattan, dragon proponents will take to the streets, calling for an end to government interference in the dragon's instinctive behavior.

'We will not stand down and watch our reptilian friend be hunted down like some kind of criminal,' said Amanda 'Moonshine' Destrow, President and Co-Founder of the We Love Our Dragon society and organizer of the protest. 'The dragon's actions are nothing more than natural instincts, and we as humans have no more right to infringe upon it's right as we do any other animal. Plus, Justin Hammer was a bureaucratic asshole, so who cares if he got robbed?'

The We Love Our Dragon society will be selling t-shirts, coffee mugs, and dragon plush toys on their website, .com. Proceeds will go towards funding the protest and towards other, less well funded, animal rights groups. Currently, the group has fifteen thousand members all across the border, and that number is growing every day. With so many turning out in favor of the dragon, it's safe to say that the government and the US military is paying attention. Strength in numbers indeed."

Loki lowers the newspaper. It's an especially windy day and the unsecured bundle of papers smacks him in the face more than once, until he just incinerates the whole thing with a handy fire spell. Angrboda is on her side, all sprawled out like a drunk, staring angrily off into the distance.

"Come now, you should be flattered," he tells her gleefully. "You have fans!"

OH, SHUT UP.


	13. Chapter 9

It's raining this morning, and the soft tapping of water droplets on the pavement are not relaxing to him. They never are. They remind him too much of how he feels after a hunt gone wrong, when his prey has spent days eluding him, only to disappear forever once it grew bored of playing with its hunters. Thor would stand in place for hours while the sky wept for him. His fists would tighten, his muscles clench, his entire being screaming for him to keep going, to not let it get away. What kind of prince was he that he'd give up so easily?

The kind that always had a level headed younger brother to hold him back and make him think. Their party is almost out of food, he would say. They are tired and hungry and cold and this is a fruitless quest. There will be other, more worthy game. Now is the time to admit defeat and think of his comrades. They need their leader far more than he needs a trophy.

He used to listen. Why did he stop listening? Why did he let himself grow into such a fool, only to exiled to a magicless realm, powerless, nearly losing his brother forever in the process. Loki is gone from him again, this time it might be for good. It's all his fault. His and no one else's, and that means it is his mistake to fix. Forget about Frigga and her visions, or Odin and his commands. Forget everything except the brother he failed and knowing that this time, he will makes amends. He will not fail.

Mother says he will be happy and he certainly will be. As soon as Loki is safe, joy will abound for them all. Their family will be together again. Loki's bitterness may remain, but he will be there, and Thor will be able to help him, to make him see who his true family is and how dearly they all love him. He makes this promise to himself; it drives him forward, away from the benevolence his time in this realm taught him. Though awareness of how brash he is being isn't far from mind, he doesn't care. One more time, he will let his emotions rule. They will not lead him astray, not today, not for this.

Nothing is going to stop him now. That dragon is as good as dead.

* * *

Puente Antiguo is kind of really dirt poor. Never is that more apparent to Darcy than when she's peering through a dirty window with a flickering OPEN sign over her head, looking in on walls of box TV sets all on to either static or classic B-movies. Unless she's hallucinating, there are also a couple of VCRs wedged in there. Any more and she'd firmly believe this place was time displaced from the 90s.

Unsurprisingly, her culture shocked new friends were enthralled with everything they saw. While Fandral had a bit more class about it, Volstagg was unabashedly pressing his face and massive beard into the glass. He looks like an eager six year old on Christmas. Good thing there weren't any shoppers.

"Amazing," he says as a giant ant reveals a human ribcage in it's mandible on the TV to the far left. "What kind of magic is this?"

"The really ancient kind," says Darcy. "Okay, here's the plan: I go in, convince the cashier to give me access to the security tapes. The guy who runs this place is a paranoid shut-in who films everything that happens up and down the street. He must have something from that night that can help us."

"Not that I don't trust your judgement, Darcy," Fandral says. "But how accurate can your moving picture be from so far away?"

The TV shop is up the street, several doors away from Jane's lab. The three security cameras installed outside the door are disproportionately high-tech, always on, and impossible to ignore once you know about them. On the long nights spent braving rainstorms and fetching Jane her twelfth cup of coffee, they were the one source of light outside the lab that Darcy could count on, even if they did freak her the hell out.

Today's the day they will finally be put to good use.

"Don't worry, Fandral," Darcy said confidently. "You're about to find out just how we do it here on Midgard. Prepare to be amazed."

"If I may," Volstagg cuts in. "I am already quite impressed with this 'television' of yours, and I can't imagine the rest of your world's innovations are any less fantastic."

Darcy claps her hands and gives him an 'a-ok' gesture. "See, he's ready for this. Okay? Let's get that tape."

She drops her pocketbook to the ground and sheds her coat. Foisting it into Fandral's waiting arms she goes for her shirt buttons.

"What are you going to do?" he asks. He face goes a bit red when she releases enough buttons to show the top of her cleavage. He tries to hide it, but he's pretty transparent for an experienced ladies' man (assuming he wasn't just blowing smoke about that).

"I'm a student of politics, Fandral," she says. "I'm going to maturely and rationally state my case, use logical reasoning to convince the cashier to see things my way, and if that doesn't work, I have a secret weapon."

Darcy struts into the shop. The cashier is a young guy of average height with greased back black hair and a mole on his chin. His name tag is old and faded, with what looks like red jam caked over the store logo. The latest issue of Men's Health is open on the counter and he's engrossed in some article about weight-lifting techniques that's apparently more interesting to him than the fact that someone has just walked into the store for the first time all year.

"Good afternoon," Darcy says, smiling cutely.

"Mm-hm," says the cashier.

Darcy nods at the magazine. "Catching up on your reading?"

"Yup."

He flips to a new page, whistling at the article's contents. Meanwhile, Darcy's spirit is stagnating. The time for pulling punches, it seems, is long gone.

"So, I was hoping you could help me out with something," she says conversationally while leaning on the counter. "Something important."

The cashier's eyes flick to her.

"Are you here to buy something?"

"I don't know... do _you_ shop here?"

"Of course not, I live in the 21st century."

His pocket goes off with a ringtone version of Like a Virgin. The cashier pulled out his iphone, reads the screen and then clicks off the alarm.

"Now if you're not here to shop, what can I do for you?"

His condescending tone was the kind of thing that would usually make Darcy want to verbally eviscerate the offender. Too bad she still needs this guy.

"I'm actually wondering about the security tapes you guys have saved over the last six months," she explains, with all the poise and objectivity that her professors have beaten into her. "Specifically those from the night of May 18th."

The cashier's gives a silent 'oh.'

"Dragon night, huh? Well, you wouldn't be the first person to ask. I've had paranormal investigators, off-duty cops, and thrill seeking spectators in here demanding to see those tapes, and aside from the cops with their court orders, I've had the pleasure of informing all of them that the tapes are restricted from public viewing or distributing. Are you a cop?"

"...no."

The cashier pouts exaggeratedly. "Oh dear. Looks like you're out of luck. Have a nice day."

He gives her a tiny wave and goes back to his magazine, but if he thinks that's going to get rid of her that easily he's even stupider than he is an ass, and indeed, he's not at all surprised when Darcy doesn't move and keeps smouldering at him.

"It just so happens, Stanley," Darcy says, eyes on the nametag. "That I am not any of those things you mentioned. I was there that night. Jane Foster was my friend."

That at least gets a reaction out of him. He lets the magazine drop, something akin to sympathy in the way he looks at her.

"I'm sorry for your loss," he says, "but I can't let you see those tapes."

Darcy expels the air she's been holding, her head dropping to her chest. The cashier is picking up his magazine, going back to his own little word and forgetting that Darcy exists. Of course, that's only if Darcy would let him, which she won't. She still has her trump card to play.

Inwardly, she wishes for many pointy objects to be on the floor the next time this guy walks around barefoot. Then she leans her whole body over the counter, pushing up the exposed tops of her breasts. She curled her hair around a finger, giving him a sultry expression.

"Are you really sure I can't... _convince_ you to help me out?" she asks in a low voice. He blinks his eyes at her. "Surely there's _something_ I can do..."

The cashier purses his lips, letting out a loud and slow hum.

"Are you attempting to use your feminine assets to persuade me?"

There's a pregnant pause.

"Is it working?"

"Not really. Nice try, though."

He smiles and winks at her, then reaffirms the finality of his statement by taking the magazine to the other side of the counter, his back to her as he reads on, admiring the impressive male forms within. Darcy's mouth is agape, her mental processing ability momentarily blocked. She leaves when he starts humming a tune, her eyes downcast so she has another few seconds before she must face how epically she has failed.

"Would he not comply?" Fandral asks when she steps outside empty handed.

"What do you think?" Darcy feels a cool wind at her chest and hastily buttons her shirt back up. "It really figures, doesn't it? The one guy who can help us out and he's completely unreasonable. Can't even be seduced, at least not by me."

Fandral eyes the store thoughtfully.

Darcy shoves her hands in her pocket, going over the flimsy back-up plans she'd come up with beforehand. Most of them would work perfectly, if they existed in a bad action-comedy-bank heist movie. Everything else is just theoretical stuff that's barely off the mental drawing board. She knew she should've taken an extra day to plan, but no, she'd just been so worried about college and deadlines. She could've just taken a plane back easy, or asked if one of these guys knew how to fly like Thor.

"Perhaps we should try and sneak in," Volstagg suggests. "It may not be the most ethical course of action, but given the circumstances, we may not have another option."

"We have no way of knowing where to look," says Darcy. "I've never even been in this store before today. Plus, this guy films everything. Do you know how many tapes and computer files we'd have to look for?"

Volstagg stares blankly.

"Of course you don't," Darcy puts a hand to her head. It doesn't hurt, it's just one of her nervous tics. The other one is a very strong desire to repeatedly kick the side wall until something caves in, but that's not constructive right now, and it would hurt to walk later. "What do you think Fandral... Fandral?"

Darcy looks all around the spot Fandral occupied, but there's not a trace of him now.

"Where'd he go?"

She doesn't need to ask, not when Fandral is very obviously in the store. He stands before the cashier, light laughter wafting out to them. The cashier's demeanor has taken a 180; gone is the detached sarcasm that characterized his response to her. Now he's all ears and luminescent blushes, almost like a girl. Meanwhile, Fandral has on hand on the countertop, exerting just enough force not to crash through the thing. He holds himself in such a way that his shirt is tight over his torso, and boy does he put those Men's Health guys to shame.

"I'm terribly sorry to bother you, my good man," he says. "My comrades and I are in dire straits you see. We are in need of your employers recording devices, and we hoped that you would be so kind as to assist us in procuring what we need."

He smiles at the cashier with unfairly perfect teeth that are driving Darcy almost as nuts as they are the cashier. It's too early to tell if he's fully ensnared, but signs are looking good. His hand slides the forgotten magazine away, bringing him out of his daze and back to reality, though only just.

"Uh... well I- you seem like a nice- _very_ nice guy, but I really can't..."

"Oh, why not?" Fandral walks around the table, strutting his stuff like there's no tomorrow. He must have used this move a thousand times and had a million women (and men for that matter) falling at his feet. He pushes past the tiny swinging doors non-employees aren't supposed to enter. The cashier makes a noise like he's going to tell him this, but then Fandral's fingers on his chin are brushing his lips. "If you give me what I need, perhaps I can return the favor."

Ten minutes later, Darcy is in a tiny room full of VHS tapes stacked to the sky and an ages old desktop computer with a years worth of security footage displayed on the screen. Fandral and Volstagg wait outside, the room is too small for even one person,let alone three. The cashier has been taken to the back room to rest off a brief fainting spell and severe nosebleed.

"Fandral, my love for you burns with the heat of a million suns, I want you to know that."

Fandral chuckles. "I'm happy to have helped, Darcy."

"Have you found it yet?" Volstagg asks impatiently.

"Almost," Darcy says. She types in a few shortcuts, maneuvering through passcodes and firewalls until an image of the empty street at night appears, lighting up the screen and Darcy's face. The timestamp reads five days ago, but it's just the start she needs.

"Bingo." She spins the swivel chair around a few times more than necessary. "Gonna be quick from here guys, hold on."

* * *

"Angrboda, go fetch me an animal of some sort. A live one please."

The odd rubber circle she's been rolling around with her tail (a tire, she calls it) goes careening out the edge of the cave as she lets it go. She grunts in confusion, blinking wide eyes at him. He smiles automatically.

"I am not going to harm it, I just need it for an experiment. This is for your cure, you realize."

She grunts again, more in an accepting- or at least resigned- sort of way.

"I would prefer something besides a reptile if you can manage it."

She shakes her head at him. Why she doesn't write anything down is a mystery that he could only chalk up to prolonged boredom. She hasn't left the cave since he declared that he had found a potential cure for her. He wouldn't pretend it was for any reason other than to watch him and make sure that this time, he wouldn't play her for a fool. He can understand that, much as he prefers to work alone without distraction. She is patient and quiet whether he is hard at work or taking breaks to regain his energy and magically retrieving literature that pertains to her from the nearest town. Most of it is either delightfully absurd (like those lovely news articles that she refuses to see the humor in) or willfully blind and foolish ("Drek," he declares, throwing aside a thick book by some pompous 'scientist' claiming Angrboda was really a primordial ancestor something or other).

A new day dawns on a thrilling success for this stage in Loki's research. Three potion bottles sit on his table in a row, all of the same make, but with vastly different liquids inside. He's caught Angrboda eyeing the green one in the middle several times with thinly veiled disgust. He doesn't blame her. The active ingredients in this particular mixture have a rather puss-like look to them when they're all brought together. He won't tell her yet that she needn't worry, it's not for her.

She flies off after a little more reassurance from him. His word clearly doesn't mean much to her, even after all they've been through. Well, she's going to have to trust him now whether she likes it or not, and he tells her as much to give her that final push.

She's gone for over an hour, more time than Loki thinks necessary to traverse this desert And then she's back, landing on her hind legs like the day she brought him here. She's a lot more careful this time around; the white rabbit in her palm is a lot more fragile than he is.

"Excellent," Loki says, petting the rabbit. It comesto him terrified from it's experience with flight, but with little food and some calming suggestions it's as relaxed as if it were still in the forest chewing grass.

Angrboda settles into the large indenture she's spent days forming in front of his worktable. She seems entirely too comfortable there. Loki holds the rabbit by the scruff of it's neck, his other hand supporting it from below.

"Take a good look at it," he says. "Memorize it's features."

HE'S ADORABLE, I KNOW.

Loki frowns.

"Please take this seriously, Angrboda."

I AM, I'M JUST SAYING HE'S CUTE. DON'T YOU THINK SO?

He frowns harder.

"I don't believe I'd ever describe something as cute, especially not rodents."

FIRST OF ALL, RABBITS ARE NOT RODENTS. SECOND, WHAT ARE YOU ACTUALLY GOING TO DO WITH HIM? BECAUSE IF YOU HURT HIM, SO HELP ME I WILL SCORCH THE HAIR RIGHT OFF YOUR HEAD.

"Please don't, hair regrowth spells are very taxing."

He has the shield up before the smoke can hit him, and he smirks as Angrboda lays back down and glares heatedly at him.

"Now that we've settled that, I'd like to give you a small lesson on the basics of transfiguration. First, a demonstration."

Loki takes the bottle to the far left and uncaps it with one hand. He forces it into the rabbit's waiting mouth, restraining it from escape as it wiggles about. Loki doesn't let go until the bottle is completely drained of fluid and the rabbit is still. Angrboda is on her feet, snarling at him in rage. It then turns to horror as the rabbit begins to convulse. Before her eyes the fur recedes into it's body. It looks emaciated without it, and then it's skin hardens and begins to flake. Scales grow in, a sickly green color that starts at the face and travels down. It's limbs distort and shrink down to nothing. Unable to stand the rabbit flops helplessly around the table. It's body stretches and compresses and slowly the seizing stops and the creature relaxes.

Loki is certain that's Angrboda's heart he sees slamming in and out of her chest. His own sinks just a tad as he thinks maybe he should have given her more of a warning first. But no, he didn't fare much better his first time witnessing an animal transformation, and he'd been a boy then. By the second or third time, she'll be over it.

He takes the snake in his hands. It coils it's new body around his shoulder, it's tongue tickling the base of his neck.

"Angrboda, what you have just witnessed is a more controlled and- shall we say- understated version of what happened to you."

He pauses for her to catch her breath and regain her sensibilities. It takes less time than he expected. He likes that.

"The potion I used is a very basic one, it takes only a few hours to brew and it's effects wear off after twenty four hours. So be not concerned that you have lost your fluffy little friend, you will have him back before you know it."

Loki outstretches his arm, compelling the rabbit-snake to slither off of him on onto the floor.

BUT THE PERSON WHO DID THIS DIDN'T USE A POTION.

Loki raises an eyebrow.

THEY HAD ME IN A CIRCLE COVERED IN SYMBOLS AND THEY DID A CHANT OF SOME KIND.

"A ritual, then," Loki says, nodding his head. "That was smart. A potion strong enough to transform a more complex creature like a human would take weeks to brew and mature. A ritual is faster, and longer lasting in most cases. They can even be permanent."

She roars, cut off mean Loki shushes her.

"I did not say they are _always_ permanent, and even if your transformation is, all hope is not lost."

She considers that while he sets aside the empty vial. The two that remain sit at the bottom of his vision. He notes the bubbling of the green one and clicks his tongue. It's going to go bad soon and he won't have enough supplies to make another. He'll have to speed things along.

"Potions and rituals have their own respective positive and negative attributes," he says. "A potion, for example, is more flexible than a ritual. It is simple to take an established recipe and switch out certain ingredients to alter the effects of those that remain, much like one might substitute certain spices in a soup. Are you understanding so far?"

WHY WOULDN'T I? I'M A SCIENTIST.

Loki's lips quirk upward.

"With a ritual spell, it's much more difficult. You more or less have to take the spell and recreate it from the inside out. That requires manually drawing the runes on a flat, clean surface when you are ready to use it. With an established ritual, you can magically copy it onto anything you please, like so."

Loki waves his hands in complicated motions, whispering ancient words to manipulate the sand she writes in. It comes together in a circle big enough to fit a human of average size. The runes would be like an impossible puzzle before her eyes. To him, they are children's scribblings.

"This is the setup for a simple human to reptile ritual," he says. "It is one of the oldest and most basic spells in history, created in the time of Bor. It is the base for every reptilian transformation spell there is, and not just for humans. Countless variations have come of it, however, recreating a ritual spell is not as easy as you may think. In fact, it's nearly impossible for all but the most experienced and well learned mages. There are only a handful of people who can do it, myself included. What this tells me is that your attacker was most likely one of the five great sorceresses of Asgard. I admit I have long suspected this, but now I am sure of it."

FIVE GREAT SORCERESSES?

"They are what I say. Like me, they have trained for centuries in magic for the purpose of healing and warfare. They are household names in Asgard, their powers are second only to those of myself, Odin and Frigga."

BUT WHY WOULD ANY OF THEM WANT TO DO THIS TO ME? WHAT DID I DO TO THEM?

"You don't have to _do_ anything," Loki says. It's technically true (he's seen Svanhild turn another woman's hair into snakes because she wore the same headpiece as her at her birthday celebration), but not in the case of Angrboda. She committed the cardinal sin against those poor hopeless suitors when she won the favor of their beloved Thor without lifting a finger, whereas they had to literally trip over their own feet to get him to even look at them.

"That is at the moment of no great importance. What matters is that we now know how you were changed, and by relation, how we might change you back."

He taps the glass with the red potion, disturbing the liquid inside. If it's settled for too long it'll start to harden. He wouldn't want to ingest that and he doubts she would either.

SO WHAT ARE THOSE TWO POTIONS FOR?

Loki smiles. "In due time. First, there are a few more things I must explain to you."

He leaves the table. The congealing of both potions give him about five more minutes before he has to use them.

"Please save all your questions for when I am finished. Time is short."

WHAT DO-

Loki looks severely at her. "What did I just say about questions?"

She scowls, but moves her claw and tail away from the sand, far enough for his approval.

"Good. No then, what this means is that the solution to your problem is deceptively simple. Unlike a potion, a ritual spell's effects cannot wear off on their own. Instead, they must be counteracted by a second ritual. For example, if I had transformed that rabbit using a leper to reptile ritual, the only way to restore it would be to use a reptile to leper ritual. The same principle works in your case. You were changed by a human to dragon ritual. We must then perform a dragon to human ritual on you."

He says no more for some time, but counts down the seconds in the back of his mind and at thirty, he waves a hand at her.

"You may ask questions now if you wish," he checks the potions again, "but please make it fast."

She is clearly wary of his haste, but thankfully, she is also agreeable.

YOU'RE MAKING IT SOUND LIKE GETTING A DRAGON TO HUMAN SPELL IS EASY, BUT I THOUGHT DRAGONS WEREN'T SUPPOSED TO EXIST. HOW COULD SOMEONE MAKE A SPELL LIKE THIS BASED ON AN ANIMAL THAT ISN'T REAL?

"It is the nature of magic," Loki says, an answer that isn't going to satisfy her in the least. "What I mean is that magic has the ability to create and re-shape, though what it re-shapes may not always be as stable as you are. That takes time, energy and practice. The person who did this could only have performed extensive research into what makes a dragon according to legend, then taken the reptile spell and worked off of it to create the necessary ritual to re-shape you into a dragon. It's very creative if I do say so myself."

That may have been a little rude of him, and knowing this, he takes the next puff of smoke in stride this time.

SO NOW WHAT? WOULDN'T YOU NEED THE ORIGINAL SPELL TO CREATE A COUNTERSPELL?

"Normally, yes," Loki says. "But you forget who you are addressing. I am the greatest sorcerer Asgard has known in centuries. The five great sorceresses are but novices compared to my skill, and I have read all the dragon lore they have."

There is less than a minute left, so Loki takes up the red potion and downs it in one gulp. He makes a face at the bitter taste. It's worse than he expected. After shaking it off he notes the time once more.

"Three minutes until it takes effect," he says to himself. Meanwhile, Angrboda make her perplextion with his actions no great mystery.

WHAT KIND OF POTION WAS THAT?

"A necessary one if we are to keep the lines of communication open," Loki says. With growing dread, he picks up the final potion. It looks more and more like vomit every time he looks at it. He is not looking forward to what comes next. "Have no fear, Angrboda. Assuming this works, I'll have no trouble explaining the rest to you in a moment."

He uncorks the vial and tips it down his throat.

The pain hits him all at once, every cell in his body feels like it's being torn apart and burned. To his credit, he doesn't scream. What comes out of his mouth as his knees buckle and he falls on all fours is more like an undignified groan. His arms wrap around his stomach, though ideally he'd like to be clutching all of himself. She's roaring just out of sight, or is that just his ears?

Loki closes his eyes tight. He can feel it starting now. His skin is burning and bubbling, his limbs elongating. He grits his teeth, refusing to open his mouth for anything in case he accidentally bites his tongue off. His fingernails grow outward and harden, the sensations trailing along his arms and meeting as his back, which arches out as the bones underneath begin to morph. As it's happening, words that aren't his come to him in static filled bursts.

_'...stop... what is go... ki what have you...'_

It becomes clearer the more the pain intensifies. If he didn't know better, he'd say there was a correlation and blame her for this. His hands close around the dirt, taking more than he should be able to. He can't tell how big he is unless he opens his eyes.

It ends all at once, the agony and the shifting of bone and marrow. He calms his racing heart, taking breaths that are harsh and animalistic. What hasn't changed, except to get louder, is the sound of her screaming in his mind.

_'What the hell have you done? What were you thinking? You just- I don't understand, why would you-'_

She's getting hysterical. Focusing now on her brainwaves, Loki sends her the loudest, most commanding thought he can.

_'Angrboda, calm down at once!'_

Her train of thought grinds to a halt, the silence strange to his ears after the onslaught she'd just unwittingly subjected him to.

_'Wh-what was that? Did you just read my mind or did I read yours?_

Loki would smile if he was truly capable of it. He feels strong enough now to pick himself up. Maneuvering four legs instead of two is only hard for a short while, but then he's always been adaptable. He opens his eyes, and looks down on her. She's absolutely stunned, her own eyes wide as saucers and more human than he's ever seen. When she had looked at the Destroyer's face with fear for her life and the lives of her loved ones, she hadn't looked like this.

_'Well, I didn't expect you to look so adorable from this vantage point,'_ he 'says' to her. Hearing his voice again in her mind does little to relax her or even lower her level of tension. _'I suppose I didn't realize before because I never stood above you in such a way.'_

He looks down at himself, his dragon body is all black with enormous wings, even larger than hers he would wager, just like the rest of him. She'd been a very petite human, and it seems the same holds true no matter what she becomes.

_'Why did you do that?'_ she asks him shakily. _'You made yourself like me! What did that accomplish?'_

_'Everything,'_ he answers back. _'I thought that would be obvious. Now we know that the spell is replicable. This is a major breakthrough.'_

_'But aren't you stuck like this now?'_

_'Well if I was, that would save you a lot of writing, wouldn't it?'_

_'This is not a joke, Loki!'_

He rolls his eyes at her, and when she instinctively gathers up smoke he answers her promptly. Their collective smoke mingles into a cloud that takes forever to dissipate.

_'Now,'_ he says while she fumes at him. _'We will have plenty of time to discuss whatever you like, but first...'_

He looks to the orange sky. The sun has not yet vanished beneath the horizon, and yet the full moon has not waited to appear. Such an inviting shine, it has.

_'What do you say we stretch our wings a bit?'_

* * *

**A/N: With this, we are heading into the final few chapters of the story. No more interludes until all is said and done, and after that will be an epilogue. We do still have a ways to go before that happens, though, so don't worry.**

**See you next time!**


End file.
